Keep Your Friends Closer
by LittlePlasticCastle
Summary: They say "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer". But what happens when you're Rose Weasley and your best friend is no other than Scorpius Malfoy?
1. i can't be no one else

_Well hello !_

_This is my third Scorpius and Rose story. I wrote so many one-shots about this couple in my 'A to Z' story that some of the material was bound to inspired me for a multi-chapter fic._

_This story is a little different and slightly unconventional. So, no Gryffindor-Rose-and-Slytherin-Scorpius-love-at-first-sight stuff here. It will be a little darker, more angsty. The first chapter is a series of flash-backs and thoughts Rose had the night of her Sorting. That's why it will be a little different from the next ones.  
_

_I hope you'll be surprised (in a good way), so please review and give me feedback, you know I always love it!_

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter nor any of the characters and setting JK Rowling created._

* * *

**_I want to be myself  
I can't be no one else_**

**(Oasis, _Supersonic_)**

**

* * *

**

I sat at the table of my new House, my eyes sweeping over my classmates' faces without really seeing them, my head hazy and full of the thundering beating of my heart.

That was it.

The Sorting.

I couldn't go back now.

That's who I'd be for the next seven years. For the rest of my life.

I could see my family staring at me all the way across the Hall, half of them looking stunned by the news, half of them looking devastated, on the verge of tears. As if I had suddenly become a leper. A freak.

But who were they to judge me? Who the hell were they to judge me?

I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just me. _Rose_. Rose! I didn't care to be just any other Weasley! Didn't they _know_ that? I had only been Sorted in another House than theirs and suddenly I was a stain on the otherwise flawless family tree? Didn't they know I wanted to live my own experiences, meet my own friends, live my own life _outside_ the Weasley clan? Like I cared about their rules – the rules that said where I should be Sorted and who I should be like. I didn't want to have rules. I didn't want to abide by the rules. I wanted to be _myself_.

After all these years, turns out the only one who truly understood me was an old, mouldy patched Hat.

**_Sly-_**

At the call of my name, I perched on the wooden stool sitting in front of the four tables aligned in the Great Hall. Was my head too small or the Hat was too big? In any case it covered my eyes entirely. It was pitch black in there, the smell a mixture of old rags, mould and hair. Never before had I realized how _young_ I was – how small, only a child – and that realisation stroke me as my first thought as a teenager. I guess you start becoming an adult the day you start feeling like a child…

'_Ahem_.'

I managed not to jump up. A little voice had just echoed in my ears. Was that how it was supposed to happen? Did the Hat actually talked to each of us? Nobody had ever told me that.

'_I've been waiting for you for a long time, Miss Weasley._'

The question mark that flashed in my mind must have been rather obvious, because the Hat went on:

'_Believe it or not. Not every day does an old Hat like me get to meet the daughter of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. And what a daughter they have…'_

I wondered what it meant by this.

'_You're not like the others, Miss Weasley, and you know that. Therefore, I cannot decently put you in Gryffindor with all your other cousins.'_

I flinched, but strangely I wasn't surprised.

'_You're intelligent, oh yes, and faithful and loyal,_' the Hat seemed to be doing some quick thinking while talking to me, because it sounded lost in thought, '_but… you seem to always manage to get what you want… by any means... cunning, yes… and there's something… rebellious about you that needs to be expressed in much bigger ways… This is why you'll be in…'_

And that's when it shouted the name.

**_-The-_**

I was sitting in one of those tiny boats that were supposed to bring us to the other side of the lake safely. With such a weather – something I would have personally called a hurricane because the lake rose and fell like a roaring dragon – I didn't believe in magic so much. But Hagrid seemed relaxed and confident, as always, and all I could do was shut up and pray. I pressed my tiny silver owl Artemis against my chest and waited for the boat ride to be over.

I caught a glimpse of white-blond hair as a lightning bolt flashed away in the mountains. The boy was still here. My father had told me not to get too close to him. If he had known me at all, he would have known this was the worst thing to say if he didn't want me to be intrigued. But I bet I would have felt curious anyway. I was fascinated, to say the least. He looked… so lonesome. Serious, yet sparkling smart. As if he had grown up too soon. Too fast. I had never seen such an expression on any of my cousins' faces – and I had to admit the expression in this boy's eyes was much more appealing than my cousin James's childish funny faces. Just before the boats bumped lightly against the stone edge of the castle, a thought, so powerful it frightened me, crossed my mind: I wish I was Sorted in the same House as him.

**_-Rin._**

Scorpius Malfoy was the most interesting person I had ever met. Unlike me, he had a shadow in his grey eyes that told me he had suffered – he had discovered very young what it meant to be a Malfoy after the War: beating little Malfoys up in the playground was the rule for other wizard children – and unlike me, he came from an _in_famous family. But we had both just been made Slytherins, and we had both had enough of rules, and so when we sat next to each other at the table that night, it happened. My eyes left the red-haired group over the Gryffindor table. I turned around to look at him. And something like an electric shock moved me to my core. I knew, somehow, that despite our different appearances, the shy platinum-blond boy sitting next to me was the closest thing to a soulmate I had ever encountered. As it turned out, he definitely was.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Even without speaking a work, we already understood each other.

'Rose,' I said.

'Scorpius,' he answered, as if our names were a topic for conversation in themselves (_Rose_ and _Scorpius_. They certainly could have been).

The moment we introduced ourselves was the moment we became friends. Inseparable.

That night was the beginning of my life, a new life where I would still be related to my family, but without giving up who I was. And I intended to make it fantastic, ecstatic and like no one else's.

No more rules.

I guess one day I'll have to give my thanks to that Sorting Hat.

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_So, what did you think? Reviews are welcome... Next chapter coming soon!_


	2. takes a look around, no regrets

_Hello again!_

_Thanks for the lovely reviews! See? It pays already: I was so happy I sat and wrote chapter 2 and there it is!_

_**Disclaimer** : oh I wish I had the talent and the imagination to write Harry Potter but unfortunately, only JK Rowling has. In a nutshell : not mine. I don't own the songs I quote in the titles either. Look them up, they're real good!_

* * *

_**Lady lights a cigarette**_  
_**Puffs away, no regrets**_  
_**Takes a look around, no regrets, no regrets**_

**(Regina Spektor, _Lady_)**

* * *

The mecanical alarm clock rings off and I immediately reach for my wand and wave it to silence the damn thing. It's a Muggle device Grandpa Weasley has given me last summer – so I wouldn't forget to wake up and sit for my OWLs. Naturally, I have done brilliantly – I may be a rebel according to my family (and, sometimes, Headmistress McGonagall), but I've never lost my appetite for competition. I just keep the alarm clock on my nightstand because it is a reminder of Arthur Weasley, the quirkiest, sweetest Muggle-loving old wizard I have ever met.

It's seven o'clock. The day before was eventful and I definitely need more sleep. But it's the first day of school and I just can't be late for the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts. Classes start at nine, and I have a lot of catch-up to do with my friends before.

I roll on my belly, sweep my red hair away from my face and look around. My roomates are still sleeping soundly in their four-poster beds. Closest to me, my friend Lana has almost all her face covered with a curtain of her thick, chocolate-brown hair. I can't help but smile: she's such a big sleeper. I know today is going to be really hard for her.

I stretch my arm and grab the framed photograph that sits on my nightstand next to the clock.

That's me with my other best friend.

A best friend trickier to introduce to my parents – the kind of best friend Ron Weasley took years to accept and to talk to when he came at the Burrow during the holidays.

On the photograph, I have my arms wrapped around Scorpius Malfoy's waist and he has an arm around my shoulders. We are laughing out loud at something - laughing so much i'm almost collapsing on him. I can't remember what we were laughing about, but by the look on our faces and the sparkle in our eyes, it was really funny, or we were just really happy.

Scorpius's untidy blond hair falls in his eye - and my eyes are alight with joy. I love this photograph – it is probably my favourite picture in the whole world – because it's the epitome of our friendship. It says everything about me and Scorpius: our physical closeness without ambiguity, our spiritual bond, our adoration for each other. When we are together, every minute is like this picture. Scorpius, who usually looks so serious, as if an indelible sadness had left its mark on him, is _always_ bright and happy with me.

And it makes me feel special too.

Lana is my best girlfriend, but Scorpius is my _very_ best friend. Actually, he's more – he's like a soulmate, like a missing part of me, someone who sometimes understands me better than I do. The thing I have felt the day we've met is still going on: we don't need to speak sometimes, we just know what the other is thinking. He's the only one who can make me laugh when I'm sad, and I'm the only one who can cheer him up when he's depressed. Despite our differences – one look at the photograph sums them all up – our relationship is still as sparky and intense as in its first days.

It's unusual to have such a friend. I know it. And I only value our friendship more.

Moreover, spending time – nearly _all_ my time, to be exact – with Scorpius has made me change. But in a good way. I feel peaceful when he's around. He progressively cured me from my restlessness. I still hate to be ordered around, to be imposed with mindless rules, and I've certainly set a record of detentions in my first years at Hogwarts that could made Uncle George proud. But his patience, his calm manners, his way of speaking his mind _after_ carefully thinking about what he has to say taught me to be more humble and mature. Which is very un-Slytherin of him (yet although I've never had a doubt about why _I_ am in Slytherin, I sometimes wonder why _he_ has been Sorted in this House). He helped me grow out of the state of permanent rebellion I was in when I first arrived at Hogwarts. He made me grow up along with him and it felt incredibly good and natural. And so there we are now. Six years later. Still friends, only just a little older and smarter.

After one last look at the picture, I get up quietly and get dressed, putting on my school robes – deep Slytherin green with a silver snake blazon – over my jeans and Tshirt. In front of the mirror I give my unruly red curls a quick brush – they bounce around my face like springs – I take my school bag and walk down the stairs to the Slytherin dungeon.

Before going to Hogwarts – and before being Sorted in Slytherin – I had always imagined the Slytherin Common Room as a dark, mildewed cave lit by melting candles, an eerie place where no one in their right minds would want to hang out. One look at it the first night I arrived was enough to make me change my mind. Either the Room has always been so surprisingly light and cheerful, or the Slytherins after the War wanted to make it a more attractive place to live, but our Common Room is beautiful, majestic _and_ cosy. Even James and Albus, who had reluctantly agreed to let me show them around the Slytherin dungeon during my first year, had liked it (I believe '_It's okay_' were James's terms and that '_Slytherin doesn't seem so bad right now_' were Albus's).

This morning, a soft September light is warming the velvet green and silver Slytherin banners that cover the walls of the Common Room, and the rays of light coming from the mezzanine windows are sparkling with golden dust particles. Walking down the hardwood stairs as quitely as possible, I let out a sight of comfort. It's good to be back home – my real home, the one I have chosen, the one that's chosen me.

No one is there except a familiar blond. My heart gives an unexpected leap of surprise and joy in my chest.

'Hello, pretty boy,' I say, walking past him, mussing his hair as a way to say 'Good morning', and I let myself fall in one of the big, comfortable armchairs in front of his.

'Hello, fair lady,' he says without looking up from his book, but the crooked smile playing on his lips tells me he just dies to tease me a little bit more than this.

'Well, in my case, _fair_ is probably not an appropriate adjective after the holidays,' I say, pointing at my sun-kissed, freckled cheekbones.

He looks up at me and snorts. 'Are you actually _tanned_, Rose? I didn't know it was possible. Didn't notice yesterday evening, but then again the candlelight really doesn't do justice to your new complexion.'

How can someone be mocking _and_ kind at the same time? Only Scorpius achieves that look. He's always picked on my freckles, which paradoxically helped me get over what I thought was an ugly skin problem over the years. I laugh with him about them now.

Still chuckling, I take a few seconds to take in his appearance. I haven't seen him since the end of July when he left the Burrow to go back to his parents' and he still seems to have grown several more inches since then. He's got the tall, slender, fit body that suits his aristocratic features – nothing too square, too muscular, too obvious, too… _Gryffindor_. His skin is pale and flawless – I've envied him for that beyong measure since I've met him – and his hair, usually dirty-blond, has turned almost platinum with the summer sun, and reminds me of the Scorpius I met exactly six years ago.

He turns a page of his book and I snap out of my contemplation. _Weird_. I've never really paid too much attention to how Scorpius looks. I know he looks _good_, that's all. I must still be a little sleepy.

To change the subject – and to dismiss the awkward feeling, I resume our conversation:

'But let's talk about you, Scorp: what're you reading?'

'It's a Muggle book,' he says. His answer is short, but the tone of his voice is inviting.

'I didn't know Malfoys were allowed to _own_ Muggle books, let alone _read_ them.'

'Let me tell you, Miss Weasley, that all Malfoys are not narrow-minded, anti-Muggle pricks.'

'I know that,' I say softly. 'My friends are always the best, and it's only natural that I picked the best Malfoy.'

'I'm flattered.'

'So, what's the book?'

'It's Dostoievski. _Crime and Punishment_.'

'Ooh. Sounds fun.'

'Well…' He looks up at the ceiling, then straight down in my eyes, a strand of blond hair falling in his face – the way he always does when he gets ready to explain something very simple to his slightly dim-witted red-haired friend, 'it's not exactly _fun_. It's… philosophical. It's about a man who seeks to prove the existence of God by comitting the unspeakable. According to him, if he gets punished, it will prove that God's justice exists, thus the very existence of God. Of course things won't work his way, and then you have your story.'

'That's what I said: _fun_.'

'No. _Beautiful_.'

And he resumes his reading. I can't help but smile tenderly at him. I love it when he tries to explain things to me: he is always so serious and he rarely gets the implied sarcasm in my voice. Once more, I wonder how Scorpius, who can sometimes be so genuinely pure and innocent, can have been Sorted in the same house as me, who is always sarcastic and self-deprecating. But then again, I'm not going to question the decision of the Sorting Hat. I would have never met such a fantastic friend otherwise.

'I'm going to go upstairs for breakfast, would you like to come?'

He doesn't answer right away, takes the time to finish the page he's reading. Then he puts the book down.

'Sure.'

He gets up and he's indeed towering over me – I mean, a lot more higher than when I left him last July. Didn't notice it yesterday, I was just so happy to see him and to be back. I admire his shiny blond hair, his crisp white shirt perfectly cut under his deep green blaser - a perfect Slytherin look, if you ask me – and as always I'm proud to be his friend. He's not the most popular boy at Hogwarts, sure. That's because he's quiet and slightly mysterious and doesn't let people approach him easily - and, to be franck, no Slytherin _wants_ to be popular anyway. But he's the smartest, the most beautiful (I mean, please take a look at his straight, thin nose and his perfectly shaped cheekbones. The boy is _indeniably_ handsome) and the most interesting, and he has chosen _me_ to be his friend. I never say that out loud, of course, but it fells great.

And, as we walk side by side on our way to the Great Hall, laughing and telling each other about our summer holidays, I am happy. Happy about the perfect year I'm going to spend at Hogwarts thanks to Scorpius. Another fantastic, ecstatic, special year.

Little do I know that the cause of the _miserable_ year I am actually about to live _is_, in fact, Scorpius Malfoy.

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_That was just the setting, but I hope you liked it anyway. More action in the next chapter..._

_Reviews are welcome! Reviews = faster updates due to writer's enthousiasm! You get the drill._


	3. no way i'm ever gonna fall for you

_Hello everyone!_

_Thank you thank you _**thank you**_ for all the sweet reviews! I'm glad you like Rose, even though she's in Slytherin. Who said all Slytherins have to be bad anyway? ;)_

_**Disclaimer**: if I was JKR, I would be filthy rich and I would live in a huuuuge mansion in the English countryside AND a beautiful penthouse in Manhattan AND a breathtaking apartment in Paris. But I'm not and the characters and settings are not mine. Neither are the songs I quote in the titles BTW._

* * *

_**But no way I'm ever gonna fall for you**_  
_**Never you, baby**_  
_**(Britney Spears, **_**Womanizer**_**)**_

* * *

'Do I look like I do freakin' _Halloween_ parties?'

I put up my best annoyed expression and roll my eyes. After all these years at Hogwarts, it is time Hugo should show some respect to the Slytherin in me.

'Come on, Rosie, I'm _organising_ the thing!' Hugo whines in the most annoying way possible – hence my expression. 'And it's _fun_ and _new_! And Gryffindor is hosting it.'

'So what would a bad, _bad_ Slytherin like me would be doing there?' Eyebrow raised, check. Superior smirk, check. Damn, do I make a fine Slytherin.

'Oh, there'll be mostly Gryffindors, of course, but I've invited a few cool people from other Houses as well. You know, to meddle them up.'

'Am I _cool_ now? Because that's news to me. I never read anything about that in the _Daily Prophet_.'

'Stop it, Rose!' Hugo playfully smacks me on the shoulder. 'Fine, you're not cool in a _popular_ way. But… I don't know. People seem to know who you are.'

'_Bravo_ to them. I'm the daughter of freakin' Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Everybody knows who I am. Same for you, Hugo.'

'That's not what I mean. Other students… they always turn to look at you. They seem a bit intimidated – because you _are_ intimidating, Rose – but they also seem to admire you a little. Like Emily Burklint, the fourth-year Ravenclaw? She dyed her hair red last year after you slapped her for standing in your way to your Charms class. I think she felt honored.'

'Well, she _is_ a sorry sod, and yeah, that makes me a big bully. Surprisingly, the side effects seem to be involuntary coolness and popularity. The world really _is_ a crazy place.'

Hugo sighs. I guess he's gotten used to my sarcastic comments by now.

'So,' he tries again in a last attempt to convince me, 'will you come?'

'Alright, alright. But only because you're my baby brother. And only because I can bring Scorpius and Lana with me.'

'But – '

'_Yes_, I believe they're invited.' I smile a threateningly sweet smile. 'See – ' I take the guest list from Hugo's hands and quickly scribble Scorpius's and Lana's names at the bottom, 'there they are.'

'OK,' grunts Hugo, 'Be there, then. And don't forget to wear costumes!'

Shit.

_Costumes_.

See, I told you there's a reason I don't do Halloween parties.

* * *

'My lovelies, I'm going to a Halloween party this Saturday, and you're both coming with me,' I state, loudly droping my books on the table in front of Scorpius and Lana. Both of them are sitting on the couch and reading their books beside the fire, and I know I've just ruined an otherwise perfectly quiet evening in our Common Room for them.

They both drop their books in their laps, looking aghast.

'Are you kidding me?' Lana squeaks, appaled.

'No way,' Scorpius simply states, as if a Halloween party is so out of question he's not even going to bother explaining why he's not coming.

But I'm not going to let them worm their way out of it. I had to say yes to Hugo, because what choice do I have? He's family. But if I'm going down, my two best friends are going down with me.

'In case you misunderstood my tone, I'm going to repeat it one more time: Halloween party. This Saturday. You guys are my dates. No objections.'

Lana throws her hands up in resignation.

'Fine. I'm only doing this because I love you. And you need someone to make sure you don't scar some innocent fourth-years for life with that bossy tone of yours. And there better be a few good-looking boys there too, otherwise I'll be out of it faster than it takes to Disapparate.'

'Thank you, Lana,' I bow towards her. Then I turn to face Scorpius, the tips of my fingers joined together in expectation, in a posture I know he finds supremely annoying.

'Scorp?'

He reluctantly looks up at me and we lock eyes for a second. I do my best to maintain eye contact as long as I can. We're both fighting back half-smiles that threaten to turn into fits of giggles and I don't want to let go first, not until he's told me he'll come with me. But something's weird again. His deep grey stare seems to burn my green eyes this time, although we've played this game over and over again. What the hell-

'Alright, I'm coming!' he finally exclaims, doubling up with laughter. I laugh too, though a little awkwardly, relieved the eye-lock contest finally stopped. In a flash of guilt I realize it's the first time I've ever felt uncomfortable near Scorpius. Once again I dismiss the thought. I'm probably too pissed about having to actually wear a bloody costume to think straight right now.

_Costumes_.

Good thing they told me they'd accompany me _before_ I told them about this teeny tiny detail.

'Oh, and one last thing,' I clear my throat and get ready to run away from them as soon as I'm done with my announcement. 'We'll have to wear costumes. Oh, and it will take place at the Gryffindor tower. Oh, and my _little brother_ is throwing the party.'

Scorpius and Lana freeze for a second, grey and black eyes piercing me – if they could look daggers, I'd be dead by now.

And then without a warning, they both jump up the couch and throw themselves at me. I squeak before falling down on the thick carpet with my friends furiously tickling me. Hiccupping for breath before almost fainting from laughter, I have a thought: I'm damn lucky to have such amazing, crazy, beautiful friends.

* * *

Saturday night comes with a freezing breeze that reminds us all automn is definitely there. Not wanting to give my costume too much thought, I've dressed up as a Muggle version of a witch: a black tangled wig, a black pointed hat and a black cloak. Lana, who's dressed up like Catwoman – she's always been more careful about her looks than me, and I have to do her justice, she looks stunning and incredibly sexy in that black leather overall and with these black little cat ears pointing out of her gorgeous hair – is doubled up with laughter, rolling on her bed.

The reason?

My ridiculous outfit.

'You know,' I try to snarl as convincingly as possible, given the fake black hair tickling my nose, 'you may laugh to your heart's content, missy. Hugo said people think I'm effortlessly cool, whatever I do.'

'Not - not after to – tonight – they won't!' she manages to let out between two frantic giggles.

See, that's the _unconvenient_ part about being a Slytherin. Your friends can love you just as much as friends in other Houses would, but they'll never show their love in a corny, classic way. They'll show it by laughing their brains out at you when you're the most vulnerable. This is, when you're wearing the worst hat in the world.

'Lana, _please_! Time to go now!' I moan, rolling my eyes and gesturing her to get up.

'Are you sure you want to go dressed like this?', she asks, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.

Am I the only one who gets the irony of my costume or what? Hello! _Real_ witch disguised as a _Muggle_ witch! Should be funny, right? Not-crying-and-rolling-doubled-up-laughing-on-the-ground funny, but witty funny, you know?

Sure, one last look at the mirror reminds me Hugo'd better be right about my natural coolness because there's no way someone _not_ cool could pull my costume off. Especially when they're supposed to stand next to Catwoman-Lana during the entire party.

Oh well. Too late to find another costume anyway. If I have to pull this off, I _will_ pull it off.

'Yes, I'm sure I want to go to the party dressed like that. Now come on. Scorpius must be waiting for us downstairs.'

As I walk down the stairs to our Common Room, a giggling Lana hot on my heels, I wonder if Scorpius didn't forget about the costume – I bet that's the kind of thing one could 'accidentally' forget quite easily.

But our Common Room is lit by a big, warm fire and Scorpius is indeed waiting for us, nonchalantly seated in an armchair, his back turned on us. At the sound of our footsteps, he turns around, and I just instantly burst out laughing: over his otherwise normal clothing, he's wearing the trademark mask of the vilain in the _Scream_ movies.

I almost jump down the remaining stairs and rush over him to hug him tight. His clean, manly scent and the light cologne he wears overwhelm me for just a second. But I'm so glad he went for the ironic Muggle Halloween costume that I pass on that feeling and laugh instead.

'Merlin, Scorpius, you're so great! I didn't even know you knew this film! It's Muggle, and it's old!'

He lifts up his mask, releasing strands of his shiny golden hair, and runs a hand in it. He's obviously very happy with my reaction because he smiles smugly.

'With my best friend having a Muggle heritage, I kind of had to, didn't I?'

I hit him lightly on the shoulder.

'Still.'

And we laugh together.

Lana observes the scene, completely bewildered. Just like Scorpius, she comes from a pure-blood family and therefore has never encountered much of Muggle culture – which may explain her fit of laughter earlier in our room, and which definitely explains her gaping mouth now. But when I release myself from Scorpius's arms and turn around to smile at her, there's another expression in her eyes apart from bewilderment. As if something had just… downed on her.

'So, Lana, you've finally gotten it? Muggle Halloween costumes for a wizard Halloween party?'

She seems to snap back to reality at the sound of her name.

'Wha- Oh, yeah, now I get it. Very funny!'

And she gives me a slightly forced smile, as if her mind was still somewhere else.

'Lana, are you OK?' I ask.

'Sure, sure,' she smiles, shakes her head. 'Just… something else in my mind. Sorry. Let's go, guys!'

And suddenly turning very cheerleader-y, she takes us both by the hand and drags us out of our Common Room to Hugo's Halloween party.

* * *

_So, yeah. It's kinda short, but I hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought! REVIEW! :)_


	4. if you're gonna play with fire

_Hello,_

_This is the last update until next week. It's exam time for me... Although I'd rather write than read for it (I always have a surge of inspiration when I'm supposed to focus on other, boring stuff), I kinda have to. So, read, review, let me know what you thought, keep your fingers crossed so that I have a chance to pass this exam, as always, I love feedback and little words of encouragement!_

_A/A/N: I have absolutely no idea if the kind of party I'm describing in this chapter could have happened in HP's world. I just thought the kids should have fun sometimes. HP purists, please don't blame me for that :)  
_

_**Disclaimer:** if I was JK Rowling I would have written a sequel to DH. A _real_ one, not a few-chapters fanfic about Scorpius and Rose._

* * *

**_There's a lesson that I want you to learn  
It's if you're gonna play with fire then you're gonna get burnt_**

**(_Lily Allen_, Friday Night)**

* * *

Although I have some difficulty in admitting it, Hugo's party is a blast.

I swear I've never seen the Gryffindor Common Room so packed with people. I've never seen _any_ room so packed, actually. I bet there's more people by square feet here than there were at Teddy's and Victoire's wedding. And I'm telling you, that's really saying something.

It doesn't mean I'm having fun though. We've only been here for ten minutes and I've already lost my Slytherin sidekicks. Lana is all the way across the room over the window, surrounded by a crowd of teenage boys drooling over her like she's some kind of black leather-clad candy – _which she is, who am I kidding_ – and she seems too busy enjoying the attention to even search for me.

Scorpius is sitting on the back of a leather couch near the fireplace, holding his _Scream_ mask in his hand, having a heated debate about Quidditch strategies with some members of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams. His hair turns gold in the firelight and his fine features are alight with passion as he talks.

I can't help but smile sweetly at his sight.

Which annoys me prodigiously when I realise half the girls in his surroundings seems to gaze dreamily at him as well.

I mean, I've _noticed_ Scorpius is good-looking and all, and that he may even look enigmatic and dark to girls who don't know him well. Nothing new here. But the fact that I can't help but feel a twinge of exasperation at the thought _is_ new.

I've got to be less possessive about my friends.

Although I really don't mind Lana being checked out by all these boys.

_OK_.

I've got to be less possessive about _Scorpius_.

_Merlin_.

What is wrong with me?

Since no one seems to pay attention to me or find my costume funny – that really _was_ worth jeopardising my inner coolness for it, wasn't it? – I instinctively make for the table where Hugo and his party mates have placed what looks like literally hundreds of bottles of Firewhisky and Butterbeer. It's never a good idea to drink on an empty stomach when you're my size, but I'm bored, frustrated, and desperate to erase some inappropriate thoughts from my brain.

* * *

The five glasses of Firewhisky I've drunk are certainly to blame, but somehow I've gotten in a fight with the Gryffindor members of my family.

The fact that I accidentally dropped and smashed on the floor the half-full bottle I was holding in my hand to pour myself some more alcohol may be an aggravating factor.

The fact that I'm too drunk to perform a _Scourgify_ spell and that Hugo has to do it for me may be the straw that broke the camel's back.

_Oops_.

In any case, I'm now facing Hugo, Albus, Louis and Lily, all looking furious and disappointed. And this time, I'm the centre of the attention. At least _someone_ is paying attention now, I think bitterly through the alcohol-induced haze.

That is before Hugo starts accusing me.

'Rose, I love you, but if you're trying to ruin my party, this is a good way to go,' he hisses, and it's so unusual to be hissed at by my little brother that I feel guilty in spite of me.

'I'm not trying to ruin your party, Hugo!' I try to defend myself, 'the bottle just slipped. It was an accident.'

'Yeah, right,' he sniffs scornfully, 'like Slytherins ever do anything _by accident_.'

'Hey!' I snap, which may be a sign that I'm progressively getting over my drunken state, 'that is so unfair!'

'It _is_ unfair, Hugo,' Albus frowns.

'Although I understand that you weren't so eager to come to this party in the first place,' Lily goes on, glaring at me.

'What does _that_ mean?'

'It means you could have done this _involuntarily,' _she adds quotation marks with her fingers here, lifting her nose up in a very Weasley way, 'just to get back at Hugo for forcing you to come.'

OK, I am no angel and this is definitely something I could do – to someone I really don't care about. But this is my little brother and my Gryffindor friends we're talking about. The fact that Lily should accuse me of using any means to kill the mood of the party makes me boil with rage.

'I see. Just because I'm a _Slytherin_, I _had_ to come and spoil the fun just to punish Hugo for making me come to his party – instead of just declining the invitation like some straightforward Gryffindor would do. Right.'

'It's not what Lily wanted to say, Rose,' Louis intervenes.

'Oh, I think it is. You are all so _prejudiced_.'

I cross my arms defensively and give them my most spiteful, disappointed look. Albus looks hurt – alright, he tried to support me against Hugo, but he's still standing next to _him_, not next to _me_ – and Louis squirms uncomfortably, but Hugo and Lily look angry and not even a little guilty.

And _I_ suddenly feel guilty. I suddenly feel hurt. Alone, abandoned, rejected by my family. Desperate for a friendly face to pop out of the crowd. Despite my cold, unbreakable exterior.

I look around anxiously. I need to find Lana and Scorpius. There's a reason why I needed them with me. I've never been fully welcome in Gryffindor, and this time the tension is so palpable it reminds me that I definitely don't belong here.

I spot Lana and give her a meaningful – read: _desperate_ – look over the crowd. She waves at me, grinning happily. She doesn't get it. Do I look like someone who's just trying to say 'hi'?

And then my eyes meet Scorpius's. He smiles his lopsided little smile at me. But his smile fades almost instantly when he reads the look on my face.

He _knows_. He just knows something's off.

And as he briskly walks through the crowd to get near me, tears of gratitude fill my eyes. I look up, try to hide them, and next thing I know he's right next to me, puts his arm around my shoulder, grants my family an rather icy look and gently takes me away from them.

_Don't cry. Don't cry._

Everything is blurred: the too-many glasses of Firewhisky, the fight with my family, the tears that keep filling my eyes and that I keep swallowing back, the comforting and protective touch of Scorpius holding me, his side pressed against mine…

And suddenly we're in the middle of a denser part of the crowd, with no Weasley nor Potter nor Lana nor anyone I know in sight.

I feel a little better.

I even smile a little.

It lifts the weight on my chest for a second.

The first notes and rythm of a well-known song start playing, and in spite of my hazy brain I listen up and recognise it.

_"I've been really trying, baby  
Trying to hold back this feeling for so long"_

I chuckle against Scorpius's armpit.

He looks at me, perplexed.

'Marvin Gaye,' I answer his unspoken question.

'I'm sorry?' he asks, his voice low, very close to my ear. I shiver a little.

'The song. It's a Muggle song my parents used to listen to when I was younger. They danced to it in the living room. They were so happy everytime. They still are.' I sigh. 'I love that they are still so much in love.'

Scorpius turns to face me then. He takes off the ugly wig off my head and ruffles the red curls that escape it - I suddenly feel considerably less pathetic without it and I'm grateful of him for thinking about it when I can't.

He stares in my eyes, his expression unreadable.

His hand slides from my shoulder to my waist, and he delicately takes my fingers in his. I look up at him, and he's towering over me, and I once again wonder how on earth I didn't notice him growing up so much before.

His hand nestles in the small of my back and he gently presses me against him.

It leaves me breathless.

I've been that close to him before.

Many, _many_ times.

And it never mattered very much.

Only this time, the mixed scent of his warm skin, clean clothes and expensive cologne engulfs all my senses.

I don't want it to stop. I don't want him to let me go.

And as I grant him a questioning look, he flashes me one of those cheeky grins that make his grey eyes sparkle:

'Would you like to dance then?'

I smile at him and wonder what this means when he starts slowly swaying me to the bluesy rythm of the song. I shut the questions out of a moment and I follow his steps, laying my head on his chest.

_"And if you feel like I feel, baby  
Then come on, oh, come on  
Let's get it on"_

'I'm sorry I wasn't there,' he says softly, and I know he's referring to my making a fool of myself and having a fight with my brother and cousins in front of a room full of Gryffindors.

It's not like I haven't already forgiven him.

But the memory of their words comes back in a flash and hurts me again. I feel like crying again – me, who never cried _once_ in front of _anyone_, Scorpius included. I feel hangovered, tired, exhausted even. I'm going through so many emotions I cannot tell which is which anymore. I need to lie down. But I need Scorpius too. I don't think I can be alone in the confused state I'm in right now. I think I'm going to really start crying if I stay here a minute longer.

'Scorpius,' I almost sob against his shoulder. 'Please take me back to Slytherin?'

I meant 'the Slytherin dormitories', but the word just left my mouth this way. Like it's my home.

Yeah. I definitely belong _there_.

But if the place I belong has Scorpius in it too, then it must be perfect, right?

It must be.

_"Let's get it on, baby  
Let's get it on"_

He strokes my hair soothingly, takes my hand in his a little more firmly and leads me out of the room, out of the portrait hole, down the stairs, all the way to the Slytherin dungeons.

Whoever said Slytherins care for no one but themselves has never met me and Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

On our way to the Slytherin dungeons, I must have passed out – due to alcohol, heartbreak, humiliation or confusion, I can't tell. But when I wake up from the haze, I'm lying on deliciously soft sheets, on an incredibly comfortable bed.

Not daring to move – I don't want to lose the heavenly position I'm currently in – I look around me.

I sit up in a jolt when I don't recognise my room.

So much for comfort.

'Where the hell am I?' I shout – or so it feels, because my head immediately rings painfully at the sound of my voice. Right. Hangover. Now _this_, I remember.

'You're in my room, silly,' drawls a male voice just behind me.

I shift on my backside and I see Scorpius lying on the bed, propped on his elbows, staring at me with his eyebrow raised and a very amused look on his face.

I let myself fall backwards on the bed with a moan and start massaging my temples.

'How did I get there?'

'I carried you,' he says. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

'You _carried_ me? Did I actually need to be carried?' And did I weight a ton, to add to my shame, I dare not ask ?

'Huh, I think you did, seeing as at some point you almost fell on the floor. Good thing I was already holding you.'

I remain silent for a moment.

'Thank you.'

'That's what friends are for.'

'You're not just _any_ friend, Scorp.'

'I know.'

I roll on my side to face him. I didn't expect his face to be so close to mine. The nearness of him adds to my confusion.

'I had no idea you owned the entire room,' I say.

Indeed, there's only one bed – a rather big one actually – and the room is smaller than mine, that I share with three other girls. I realise I've never heard him talk about his roomates – which I do very often, half the time to complain about their snoring.

'More girls than boys in Slytherin in our year. The first four guys who were Sorted got the big dorm where they had all the fun in their first years, and I got the one-person bedroom where I used to feel alone and left out – well, until it turned out when we grew up that it was the best option, really. Like for tonight.'

His last words send an irrepressible shiver down my spine.

'What… what do you mean, _tonight_?'

'I mean I'm quite sure you'd rather be here alone with me, nursing your hangover, than in a room full of sixth-year Slytherin boys,' he smiles ironically.

_Oh. That._

_What did you _think_ he was going to say, Rose?_

'Right…' I admit thoughtfully.

'You seem… a little tense. What's going on?'

What's going on is that you fucking distract me with your smoldering grey eyes and your sleek golden hair falling in your beautiful face and your intoxicating scent, that's what's going on.

But I go for another explaination.

'It's because of my family.'

Which is only partially true. But as I say the words, another wave of despair crashes upon me and wets my eyes again.

'Rose,' Scorpius simply says, and cups my cheek with his hand.

I was already a little feverish but now it feels like he set my skin on fire.

Which, strangely enough, doesn't prevent the tears from spilling.

'This is embarassing…' I start, and my voice comes out shaky.

He moves a little closer and takes me in his arms.

It feels incredible.

And also terrible.

I now cry for good.

'Scorpius…' I say, and then : 'Why… was I Sorted in Slytherin?'

I can't help the end of the sentence from flying out of my mouth. I'm not sure that's what I wanted to say. But it's a question I've been holding in for six years, and tonight it tortures me.

Scorpius sighs, as if he knew I was going to ask this exact question. As if he'd had his answer ready for years.

'Because you're extraordinary, Rose.'

I look up at him. I'm sure I don't look pretty because I don't know how to cry cutely. I'm just not one of these girls. My eyes must be red and puffy and my cheeks pink with embarassment. But Scorpius is my friend and it's OK if he sees me cry. He knows I never cry. Unless I have serious reasons, like when I'm feeling completely lost, like when something is shifting dramatically in my life and I just can't grasp what, like tonight.

But I'm still so surprised by what he's said that I can't help by snort:

'Extraordinary? I don't think so.'

'My friends are always the best, so it's only natural I've picked the best Weasley,' he smirks, reminding me of what I told him the first morning of this schoolyear. I chuckle in spite of me.

'Seriously Rose. _Extraordinary_ as in the opposite of _ordinary_. Ordinary people are not Sorted in Slytherin. Ordinary is good for Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, even Gryffindor if you ask me. Ordinary is not a bad thing. But it's just not who you are.'

'I always enjoy a little Slytherin pride, it's true,' I smirk.

He mirrors my expression and keeps on:

'You're not like the others, Rose. You're so smart you manage to outshine _me_ half the time,' (and that's what I love about Slytherins: never afraid to state the obvious fact that, well, they're the best), 'you're witty, you have this free and rebellious spirit, you're sarcastic and incredibly funny, you're never boring or predictable – and you're absolutely beautiful on top of all that.'

Wait.

Did he just called me _beautiful_?

_Absolutely_ beautiful?

_Me_?

'And… I guess these are just a few of the very good reasons why you're a Slytherin.' He concludes.

'You know, my brother and my cousins must hate you right now,' I manage to say, remembering the little Gryffindor slash Slytherin family clash we had an hour ago, as soon as I recover from the shock of _Scorpius-telling-me-I'm-beautiful-for-Merlin's-sake_!

'Didn't they hate me already?'

'I think they hate _me_ in the first place. For being a Slytherin. For being different.'

He frowns slightly at my words.

'Look, I have nothing against your family and you know it. I don't think they hate you because of your _House_… But if they're really like that, then they just don't deserve you.'

'Not everyone is like that. Sure, my dad is still getting used to it, but my mum supports me whatever I do. She says the others just have to learn tolerance.'

'I have a renewed respect for Hermione Granger,' he murmurs.

'I'm sorry,' I shake my head. 'Things must be hard for you too sometimes.'

'Not with my family, no. I mean, they did have a problem with me hanging out with Rose Weasley in the beginning,' he winks as a reminder of our families' long-term enmity, 'but when they found out you were a Slytherin, they felt better about it.'

'What's the difficult part, then?'

'Mmh, basically _about_ the rest of the world. Glaring at me, frowning at the sound of my name, waiting with bated breath for the moment when Death Eater's spawn is going to screw up.'

'_Jerks_,' I spit. 'Like you could ever screw anything up.'

'I'm really trying my ass off not to,' he smiles.

'You're doing a great job so far,' I smile back.

We stare in each other's eyes for a moment. Scorpius has the most amazing eyes. At first you'd think they're iron grey, but when you look at them from a closer distance, you find out they're actually filled with dots of unexpected colours, green, amber, brown, yellow, silver. I think this little detail of him made me love him even more when I found out about it.

'I think I know why I've been Sorted in Slytherin,' I finally say.

'Because all my reasons weren't good enough?' he chuckles.

'Because I wanted to be wherever you'd be.'

He seems startled, surprised.

'Really?'

'I knew I had to. I knew it from the moment I saw you.'

'Rose…' his voice comes out in a sight.

I hold my breath, wait for the rest of his sentence.

'…Thank you.'

He hugs me tighter, and I feel the urge to cry again.

For the hundredth time tonight, what the hell is _wrong_ with me?

'Thank me for what?' I peep, my mouth pressed against his shoulder.

'For being my friend,' he says softly.

And he pulls away a little.

His eyes in my eyes.

His hand on my waist.

A little crooked smile playing on his perfect lips.

His very, very _close_ perfect lips.

Is he…

Is he going to…?

Kiss me?

_Yes._

_Please._

_Kiss me._

His hand leaves my waist and strokes a strand of curly red hair away from my face. Feels like the softest thing that has ever touched me.

'Time to go to sleep, Rose. You've had a hard day.'

And he lays back his blond head on the pillow.

He closes his eyes.

He's already breathing slower.

He looks so peaceful.

_He didn't kiss me._

He had no intention of kissing me.

And it dawns on me.

No parties or family fights or late-night conversation can allow me to escape a fact that's been struggling to come out. Because tonight there's just no way around it anymore.

How blatantly obvious.

I have feelings for him.

I have feelings for Scorpius Malfoy.

I have _feelings_ for _my best friend_.

And in the silence of the night, the tears stream freely down my eyes now, without anyone gently wiping them away.

* * *

_Let me know what you thought... You know I love it! Review :)_


	5. so baby turn that record on

_Hello,_

_I know. I shouldn't have updated this. I'm a bad, _bad_ student. I'll certainly fail my exams. Only your reading and reviewing will be able to cheer me up when I get my awfully low grades :)_

_**Disclaimer**: Characters and settings are JKR's. OCs and plot are mine. But she would have written it all so much better._

* * *

_**I knew that it was wrong**_  
_**So baby, turn that record on**_

_**(Lady Gaga, **_**Brown Eyes**_**)**_

_**

* * *

**_

I have no idea how it happened, but somehow, Scorpius and I are back at Hugo's party. I don't remember getting up from his bed and walking all the way to the Gryffindor tower with him, but then again, I've been rather stoned on Firewhiskey and a black-out is more than likely in this situation.

We're in the middle of a crowd again, people pressing us together. It's not my fault my body keeps bumping smoothly against Scorpius's. It's not my fault the goosebumps that erupt on my neck at his touch disturb me.

There's no one else I know in sight. Not that I care so much. Scorpius is here with me and that's enough.

The notes of _Let's Get It On_ fill the air around us again. They've put that record on already, but since the last time they played it Scorpius offered me to dance with him, you won't hear me complain about the repetition.

I catch his eye when I look up at him. The emotion I notice there surprise and confuse me. Sure, he's sporting the trademark Slytherin smirk that tries to cover it all – but deeper, closer to the delicate colour dots of his pupils, there's something clouding the usual spark, something so intense it frightens me despite all I know about him. Suddenly, I realise how physically close we are again – and my heart gives a leap of excitment and fear.

For the first time since I've known him, there's something _dangerous_ about Scorpius Malfoy.

Something that can hurt me.

Something that can destroy me.

And I've never been so attracted to him in my entire life.

And before I have the time to stop and ponder that thought, he takes my right hand in his slender fingers and his other hand slides along my waist, settles in the small of my back and presses me gently against him.

Despite the sense of _déjà-vu_, this is the most erotic gesture I have ever experienced.

He leans towards me, his face breathtakingly close to mine – he inhales near my hair, exhales – his breath comes out slightly ragged, painful. The tip of his nose tickles the line of my jaw, sending irrepressible electric shocks down my spine and then – very, very, _very_ close to my ear:

'Dance with me, Rose.'

_No, wait._

_This_ is the most erotic moment of my life.

The way he says it, it's not an offer, like before.

It's an order.

A plea.

The dark fire is burning in his eyes, stronger than ever, and I bet my gaze is clouded with the same desire.

And there's no way I'm going to decline _that_.

I step closer to him, so close there's no space left between us and I can feel the warmth of his body underneath his clothes.

I rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, breathe in the smell of him.

Lose myself in the feel of him.

We're swaying slowly to the music, and there's only us. I forget everything about where I am and who's around.

How come I didn't notice before how much the words of our song seem appropriate? _More_ than appropriate. As if they'd been written for us. As if I had been holding in a feeling I didn't know I had. As if suddenly we've both gotten rid of our inhibitions and got on with it.

Because I _want_ him.

I ache for him.

Even though these feelings frighten me.

He sighs in my neck as if he's read my thoughts.

Which he probably can. He wouldn't be my soulmate for nothing, would he?

'Rose…' he murmurs, and I love my name when he says it like that.

'Scorpius.' I love his name. _Period_.

He shifts to face me, gently presses his forehead against mine.

As I lose myself in his gaze, I realise the new emotion I see in his eyes mirrors mine: awe, fear – _desire_.

'Kiss me,' I whisper, my mouth excruciatingly close to his.

Kiss me like you should have kissed me when we were in your room earlier.

Kiss me like I'm unconditionally yours.

Because I've always been.

And as he moves closer, tantalizingly slow, I succumb to danger. Close my eyes. And wait for him.

* * *

But this doesn't feel like Scorpius's lips. _At all_. My lips are dry and my throat is parched and my brain is pounding against my skull and I force myself to open my eyes and see what's wrong.

I'm lying in deep green silk sheets smelling of Scorpius's cologne.

The sun is slowly rising behind the fine window curtains of his bedroom.

My entire body protests against my movements and reminds me of the amount of Firewishey I drank last night.

_That's_ what's wrong.

I turn around as slowly as my aching head allows me. With a grimace of physical pain and real disappointment I see Scorpius lying next to me, breathing in and out peacefully as if nothing had happened.

Well, nothing has happened to _him_.

_I_ just had a ridiculous, vividly graphic dream.

And as I am rational enough to know, dreams are not signs or omens but mere projections of our subconscious.

Which means, Scorpius doesn't lust after me.

Scorpius doesn't want to kiss me.

But my subconscious sure does.

And I pretty much agree with it.

Seeing him here, still fast asleep – because, unlike me, he doesn't have a guilty conscience that wakes up up at dawn on a Sunday morning – still unaware of my presence in his bed, well, it breaks my heart a little.

I am amazed how the same scene could have taken place a day ago and nothing would have felt the same. Because a day ago, I didn't have feelings for him – although I've come to doubt said feelings spontaneously sprang up in my heart – they've probably hid themselves deep down a long time, waiting for the moment when I'd be the most vulnerable to bring themselves to light.

A day ago, Scorpius was nothing more, and nothing less, than my very best friend in the world.

I suddenly realise that my new feelings for him are not particularly _friendly_ – wanting someone to kiss you repeatedly in real life _and_ in your dreams is not something a friend should do, is it? And that this new situation is bound to put our friendship in danger. Thus Scorpius must never, _ever_ find out what I feel. It'll pass. Yeah, it'll pass. In the end I'll be back to considering Scorpius as my friend, and nothing else.

Although as I look down at him I'm overwhelmed with such an urge to run my hand in his beautiful hair and snuggle up against him and kiss him awake that I wonder if this moment will ever come.

I sigh painfully – now my heart is aching too, and it has nothing to do with alcohol. I'm in too deep, and the only way out is to act my arse off and pretend his good looks, his intelligence and his charisma have never affected me whatsoever.

To add to my pain, I notice the framed photographs on his nightstand. The first my eyes land on is, of course, the same that I have in my room. I quickly shift my eyes to the next frame: seeing our happy faces and the innocent way we acted around each other could just kill me right now.

The photograph I turn my attention to is a picture of Scorpius with his parents, taken a few years ago – Scorpius looks significantly younger than today, his face rounder, his smile enthusiastic like only a child's smile can be. Must have been taken between our second and third year at Hogwarts, because he's sporting a Slytherin Quidditch scarf around his neck – that's when he started playing Chaser for our House team.

On Scorpius's left stands Astoria Malfoy, a breathtakingly beautiful woman whom I've always found intimidating even if she's always been perfectly nice to me. She has a hand on her son's shoulder, as if she wanted him to pass a little of his joy on to her. Her dark brown hair runs down her back in loose, perfectly shaped waves and her long-lashed doe-like green eyes shine with conspicuous pride – a pride that's not enough to hide the undefinable sadness that can be read in her eyes. Scorpius has taken very little from his mum, physically speaking – but in his demeanour and attitude, in the look that's been in his eyes forever, he's much more like her than like his father.

Indeed. On Scorpius's right, Draco Malfoy looks as cold, haughty and restrained as I've ever known him. Scorpius is the exact copy of him, only younger: Draco's hair is a little lighter, his face a little more pointed, but otherwise they're two versions of the same tall, blond, slender handsome man.

Scorpius still looks more beautiful to me. Because I can read him easily, and I know what's inside is just as good as the outside. It's not just a cliché. I've never seen Scorpius's face tainted with the bitterness that always lingers on his father's face – as if something had left a sour taste on his tongue, made his smirk almost freeze into a sneer. Scorpius can be wistful sometimes, but he's never _bitter_. And I admire him for that because if I'd had to grow up as a Malfoy and not as a Weasley – Merlin know it makes quite a difference in our world – I would probably hate the world _and_ myself right now.

I tear my gaze from the picture and lie back on the bed. I carefully stare at the ceiling and not at Scorpius, because after looking at his family picture, remembering where he came from, , the mere sound of his peaceful breathing makes me feel an new, frightening wave of tenderness for him.

And I'm pretty sure everything he'll do consciously or unconsciously from now on will trigger this kind of reaction in me.

As I said, there's no way around but to act my arse off.

And the sooner I start acting, the better.

And what would a friend who's casually slept in another friend's bed would do if she woke up before him on a Sunday morning?

Would she lie next to him, mourning the loss of her friendly feelings, greeting the birth of new, embarassingly intense feelings of love, uncomfortably staring at the cracks in the ceiling?

I don't think so.

She would get up, walk quietly out of the room, and get on with her day as if nothing special had happened.

And that's what I'll do.

Thus I turn my back to Scorpius so that I'm not tempted to look at him – because I'll never be able to leave the room if I start another staring session – slowly and very, very painfully lift myself up, quietly put one foot then the other one down on the hardwood floor, and get up.

Just before I'm about to tiptoe out of the room, I notice a book lying on the floor. It's almost hidden under the nightstand but I immediately recognize the cover with a pang of regret: it's Scorpius's copy of _Crime and Punishment_, the book he read, the book about which I used to make fun of him. Yet today its title sounds strangely appealing to what I'm going through. Isn't Dostoievski known for his accurate descriptions of emotional turmoil and angsty characters? I'm not sure, but I certainly hope so. That's exactly the place where I am right now.

So I swiftly pick up the book and slip it into my jeans back pocket. Scorpius has read it so many times he won't miss it too much when it's gone, will he?

And as I make for the door as fast as I can without running, I wonder if fleeing the place where all this mess started will make the mess just fade away...

* * *

So that's what feeling like shit is like.

I'll sum it up for you in case you ever have to put a label on it.

It's sitting alone at the Slytherin table, nursing your hangover with black coffee and toasted crumpets, trying to ignore the death glares your cousins and brother shoot you from the other side of the Great Hall while keeping a air of superiority firmly set on your features, and wondering how the hell you can go back from feelings of love to feelings of friendship with Scorpius Malfoy.

If this ever happens to you, feel free to send me an owl, hopefully I'll have figured it all out by then.

But right now all I want is to bang my head on the heavy wooden table to stop it from throbbing painfully with liquor and questions.

Just when I'm about to carry out this plan, Lana appears out of nowhere and sits next to me, shaking her chocolate brown mane of hair in a very joyful manner. Apparently she didn't drink a bottle of poisonous alcohol and fell in love with her best friend last night.

'Hellooooo dear!' she chirps excitedly.

_Definitely not._

But I can't help but feel curious about her abnormally good mood.

'Aren't you a ray of sunshine, sweetheart? Since when have you been a morning person?' I say through gritted teeth, giving her my best big fake smile – my ears still ringing painfully at the sound of my voice.

'Since I had the most perfect night of the history of Hogwarts and you didn't come back to our dorm so I could tell you all about it yesterday!' she singsongs annoyingly.

Her eyes sparkle and she shakes her hair once again. Being happy at ten in the morning doesn't suit her so much.

'Stop being such an Hufflepuff girl about it, don't bat your lashes and spare me no detail,' I go straight to the point and pour myself another cup of coffee.

'Alright.' She rolls her eyes – which in our friendship means _Merlin when will you _ever_ cut the sarcasm?_ and goes on, 'But first, tell me why you didn't sleep in your bed last night.'

OK. Morning sunny happy Lana? Not so nice after all.

I decide to go for the truth - at least the visible part of it - because my brain is too clouded to look for a more believable excuse.

'Scorpius took me to his dorm. I nearly passed out, I was too drunk. Nothing bad happened' - except for a fight with the Potters and the Weasleys and a broken heart - 'but I swear I'll never touch a glass of Firewhiskey ever again.'

I don't like the way Lana is scrutinizing me.

'You slept in Scorpius's bed?' she asks, oblivious - _or is she? _- of the fact that yesterday I was so loaded I wouldn't have been able to walk myself back to the dungeons if my life depended on it.

'It's not like that!' I say defensively, 'he couldn't get in the girls' dormitories to put me in my bed, could he? And I was asleep before I touched his bed.'

She still stares at me with her beautiful eyebrow raised in distrust.

'Oh, come _on_, Lana! Scorpius is my best friend, it's not like anything could have happened!'

The desperate cry underlying my sentence almost scares me.

But fortunately Lana understands it as conviction because her face relaxes and she smiles at me, nodding with relief.

'I'm sorry,' she laughs, 'how could I forget? Sorry I suspected you two. Of course you're right, nothing could have happened.'

I know she's right, but it still feels as if I've been stabbed right in the heart.

Because apparently I'm the only fool who thought _something_ could have happened.

I sigh, and decide to change the subject:

'Tell me all about last night then.'

Lana straightens herself up on the bench, eyes cast downwards, hands on her knees, in a very uncharacteristic posture. Is she suddenly shy?

'I met a boy.'

I raise an eyebrow.

Did my beautiful, smart, untouchable friend just _blush_?

'He's a Ravenclaw. Seventh year. After you disappeared I stayed a little longer, tried to spark up an interesting conversation with one of the boys around, but they were all too dull, too dumb. I was bored out of my wits and I was about to go back home when he came around and started talking to me. And Rose, that's the amazing part: I can't even remember what we talked about, because I was fascinated, so totally caught up in conversation I wasn't even _thinking_ – I wasn't trying to be interesting or smart or pretty or whatever I usually do when I sort of fancy a boy. With him – it just _flowed_, you know? Easy, simple, perfect.'

Yes, I know.

I've experienced the exact same feeling with Scorpius since the day I met him. Only I wasn't old enough until now to fall in love with him for that.

'How come you've never met this guy before?' I ask instead.

'I told you, he's a year older, and he's in Ravenclaw. If it wasn't for your family, would we ever mix with people from other Houses?'

'Fair point,' I state. 'Now, who is he?'

That's when Lana blushes harder. I'm starting to feel genuinely interested despite my numb brain.

'Jake Jerrod.'

It takes all my presence of mind not to snort out my coffee. It would only burn my nose and add to my general painful state.

Coughing and laughing, I manage to hiccup behind my hands:

'Jake Jerrod?'

Because to say that Lana is out of Jake Jerrod's league would be an understatement. She's so out of his league they're actually playing different sports. Lana is not only physically striking. She's tall, slender, with a heart-shaped face, spotless skin, beautiful hair and has an effortless way of always being in fashion without even trying. She's also extremely smart, witty, funny and eats insignificant little guys like Jake Jerrod for breakfast.

There's no way Jake Jerrod could handle half of a girl like her.

So how on earth did he manage to seduce her? I wish I had been there to witness this unfortunate miracle. And, as it happens, to prevent myself from developing feelings for Scorpius also.

On the other hand, Lana seems quite upset about my outburst. And as I progressively calm down, I realise I would be just as annoyed if someone had been incredulous about the boy I fancied.

So I put on my best straight face, wipe my eyes and say:

'Sorry about that. Tell me more about him.'

She doesn't take my attempt to amend myself seriously.

'You don't like him.'

Here. Reproach. As if I really wanted to lose all my friends in one day.

'No, Lana, I _am_ sorry. I shouldn't have made fun of him. Please tell me what you liked about him.'

'Well,' Lana starts talking normally again, and soon the excited blush reappears on her cheeks, 'he's so intelligent and funny, I swear I never laughed so much with a boy. And he's able to have deep, meaningful conversations with me and not just drool over me like an excited little dog, just like all the other boys do.'

I can't help but look sceptical again. Which Lana picks up immediately.

'Look, Rose, I know what you think. He's not good-looking and you wouldn't notice him in a crowd.' _Sure you wouldn't_. He's skinny, his hair an undefinable pale brown colour and Lana's taller than him. 'I bet he's never mounted a broom for fun, let alone to play Quidditch, and I'm sure he's the typical bookworm to people who don't look under the surface. But despite his unpromising exterior, he's brilliant and you'll find out about it too over time.'

_'Over time?_'

'Yes,' Lana shifts her hair one last time, 'I'm going on a date with him next Saturday and you'll meet him then. Hogsmeade trip, remember?'

'I totally forgot about it!' I open eyes like saucers. I'm usually so excited to go out of the castle's grounds I plan my trip a week ahead. But in the light of recent events…

'You're going to go with Scorpius, aren't you?' Lana asks.

Casually. Or is there a hint of questioning in her voice?

'I… I don't know,' I answer, suddenly short of breath.

'You always go with Scorpius, why wouldn't you go with him this time?'

She's not intrigued. She's just genuinely surprised. I hope.

'Oh, I could go with someone else, just for a change,' I say just to put her off track.

As I speak, Lana raises her head and seems to notice someone walking in the Hall.

'That's the best idea you've had in a long time, Rosie dear,' she says as a grin widens on her face and her eyes sparkle with excitement and mischief. 'Why don't you go and ask Alejandro over there?'

I look up just in time to see Alejandro Garcia walk past us and sit a few feet away from us at the Slytherin table.

My stomach gives an uneasy squirm at his sight.

Why didn't I ever tell you about Alejandro Garcia, you may ask?

Well.

I guess until yesterday night I was a little girl and I didn't pay that much attention to the male population of Hogwarts. Even Scorpius, as handsome and intelligent as he is, wasn't an object of desire to me. But something, _something_ happened – the sadness in his eyes, the feel of his breath on my skin, the smell of his clothes and cologne, the feeling of longing it awakened in me – and I became a woman. Just like this, just in a second.

Which leads us to Alejandro Garcia.

A _girl_ wouldn't notice him. But a _woman_ – a woman would do exactly what Lana and I are doing right now.

Stare at him with half-idiotic smiles and half-open mouths.

Alejandro Garcia is an exchange student from the Wizarding School of Puebla, Mexico. He's done all his education there and came to Hogwarts for his seventh year when his parents moved to London. He's tall, broad-shouldered from all the playing as a Beater, dark-haired, black-eyed, olive-skinned and _extremely_ handsome. And, to add to his inner charm, he's a Slytherin, of course.

And he leaves no girl at Hogwarts indifferent.

Yet a stab of pain in my gut reminds me that no amount of staring at gorgeous foreigners will make me forget about Scorpius Malfoy.

But the mischievous glint in Lana's brown eyes suggests me I should at least try to.

It can't get any worse than it is, can it?

So without her even pushing me to do it, I sit up and walk automatically the few steps that separate us from the dark, handsome boy.

It feels like sleepwalking but I don't care too much: it will be easier that way. Like taking off a plaster. Quick and painless. _Just do it_.

'Hi Alejandro,' I hear myself chirp and I sound like the million other girls who came over to him to talk to him, squirming and fidgetting and batting their lashes flirtingly.

He look up at me, and strangely his face brightens immediately and he cracks me a dazzling smile when he recognizes me.

'Good morning, Rose Weasley,' his voice is husky with an lilting foreign accent that rolls the 'r's and tickles my ears nicely.

'I was wondering, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next Saturday?' My body says while I gently float away from it and watch the scene from a distance above.

Alejandro really grins now and he looks even better like this, but my pulse still fails to rise to the amount appropriate in the presence of such beauty.

'It will be a pleasure.'

'Brilliant. I'll see you around then.' I flash him my best flirtatious goodbye grin and walk back to a gloating Lana.

I really, really don't feel better about myself.

Although I've just done something that will make all the other girls at Hogwarts green with envy.

I said I'm going to act my arse off from now on. And right now I'm ready to play the part of the girl who's just asked the most gorgeous boy of Hogwarts out and doesn't even _think _of her best friend as a potential love target.

Funny how I already feel like I've betrayed Scorpius and it's not even half past ten.

* * *

_Hogsmeade trip next chapter... I wonder what will happen (I really do... haven't figured it out yet)!_

_As usual: **REVIEWS** are welcome! Really. So please, if you've read this and you liked it at least a little bit, let me know... :)_

_Until next time,_

_LPC_


	6. he wore black and i wore white

_Hello,_

_Exams are over, so as a thank you for your reviews and your patience, here's an update! 6,680 words and setting my personal record._

_Sorry about possible typos and grammar but my session expired while I was proof-reading it and I was too tired for checking it again. Pheew. Exams fatigue. Hope you like it anyway :)_

_**Disclaimer**: JKR owns all the things remontely recognizable to you. Nancy Sinatra owns the great song I quote in the title. Only the plot is mine._

* * *

**_He wore black and I wore white_**  
**_He would always win the fight_**

**_(Nancy Sinatra, _Bang Bang_)_**

* * *

Sunday passes just like a Sunday should.

I have asked out on a Hogsmeade date Alejandro Garcia, school's hottest bachelor extraordinaire, and he accepted gladly.

I have found out my friend Lana has an inappropriate crush – according to me – on school's dullest bachelor Jake Jerrod.

I am currently trying to fight back my feelings for my best friend Scorpius Malfoy.

And the best way I know to take my mind off unpleasant thoughts is the Holy Trinity of: Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, late night work and my spot in the Hogwarts library – one of the three tables in the back, behind the Restricted Section, next to the big window with a view of the Lake.

These are my conditions for perfect concentration.

Until –

'Hey.'

My head pops up instinctively at the soft sound of his voice.

Of course he's here.

He's the only one who not only knows this habit of mine – the essays, the late night homework, the back of the library – but shares it with me.

So much for evading him.

'Hi, Scorpius.'

It takes all my willpower to smile back at him nicely and not burst out sobbing and/or throw myself at him and hug him passionately like I really want to.

It seems I already forgot how glorious he looks, especially surrounded by darkness in the dim, warm light of the library old-fashioned lamps.

And how much I've missed him.

_Yeah_.

My new feelings for him seem to have created an odd gap in our space-time continuum, a gap that affects only me. Weeks, years, centuries may have passed since the last time we shared an innocent laugh or a hug.

It's my fault.

I've tainted everything with desire, freaking teenage hormones and inappropriately racing pulses.

And it doesn't help that he stares at me like this, concern and sympathy glinting in his beautiful grey eyes.

'What's going on?' I ask eventually, trying to sound casual.

'I'm more entitled to ask this question than you are,' he says wisely, but I can't help noticing the reproachful edge in his voice.

I sigh.

'Is it because I left this morning without letting you know?'

'Partly because of this, yes,' he says, and his voice only half a degree colder makes me shiver nonetheless, 'and also because I have a feeling you've been evading me.'

I sincerely hope he doesn't notice my swallowing. _Poker face, _Rose_, poker face._

'I haven't, Scorp,' my thoughts racing for an excuse, 'I've just been… very busy with our Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.'

'Which is only due next Friday,' he points out drily.

'Yes, but with my hangover from last night it's harder for me to focus so it took me a little more time to get it started and I'm also stressed out about the Herbology essay for Wednesday and I figured the sooner I finish one of these the better.'

I hear myself struggle with this incoherent stream of excuses and I can see Scorpius is no fool. If the temperature in the library wasn't so low I'd be sweating profusely by now.

Scorpius's frown deepens more and more as I speak, and when I finally stop babbling I brace myself for the blow – because I'm such a bad liar when it comes to him that he'll confront me and eventually expose my feelings for him and then it will all be over.

And they say Slytherins are conniving, calculating, lying bastards. I bet that's only until they fall in love.

But the blow I'm expecting never comes.

Scorpius merely stares at me. Did something dawn on him as I was speaking, I'll never know. His expression's gone from scowling to soft and he seems lost in thought, his eyes set on mine but looking further, deeper.

As I'm about to look away from his troubling gaze he finally speaks up:

'How was your day then?'

I look back at him, slightly taken aback. I was expecting him to question me a little more. Instead, he's totally changed the subject.

Does this one suit me better? I'm not sure, but there's no harm in trying.

Only then do I remember the most important thing I did today is the one I'll never be able to confess to him – because he's the very reason why I did it in the first place. To forget about him. To set my cap on another handsome boy instead of him.

Not that this is ever going to work, I realise now Scorpius is here, sitting next to me, making me feel warm and restless and uncomfortable and ecstatic without even touching me.

I persuade myself that I'll find a way out in due course and that every lie I say now won't matter by the end of next week.

'I didn't do anything special.' _Liar, liar, liar_. 'Just had brunch with Lana, came back to my dorm to take a quick shower and change clothes and then I settled here. What did _you_ do?'

'Well, I slept in a little, and I went upstairs for brunch at noon, then had a Quidditch practice, and when I got back in the castle I started looking around for you.'

'Why?'

He rolls his eyes characteristically and I swear my heart tightens a little bit.

'Because we always spend Sunday afternoon reading and doing homework together, remember? Merlin, Rose, are you still drunk or something?'

I know this was meant as a joke but it is still so acurately describes my state of mind I have to quickly check my features to see if my face hasn't betrayed any emotion.

'No, I'm not,' I say defensively, smirking to put him off the track. 'How was Quidditch by the way? Sorry I didn't come down to the pitch, I wasn't in a very cheerleadery mood.'

'Quidditch was brilliant. It's the best team we've had in years, I swear. Especially now that we have Leanore Nott as a Seeker and Alejandro Garcia as a Beater, we're almost certain to win the Cup this year. These guys really know what they're doing.'

OK. Asking about Quidditch when I know Alejandro plays in the Slytherin team with Scorpius was a bad idea.

Thank Merlin it's dark in here and Scorpius doesn't notice how hard I blush.

'Oh,' is the only thing I manage to utter without stammering.

He looks at me quizzically, then seems to remember Quidditch is not my _forte_.

'I won't bore you with Quidditch statistics and stuff. I'll let you finish your essay, OK? We'll meet in the Common Room later. I'm just saying, the next match against Gryffindor is going to be epic. And I want you to be just a tad more enthusiastic about it. We're _Slytherins_, for Merlin's sake.'

And as he sits up, he ruffles my hair – a friendly gesture we've both always had for each other – and leaves me with an encouraging grin.

_Shit_.

I've just had the opportunity to tell him about my stupid date with Alejandro and explain why I'm already planning on cancelling it, and I didn't have the guts to spit it out.

I just hope he won't bump into the Mexican in our Common Room and start a little chat about me and what a bitch I really am.

* * *

I make sure I work so late that I don't run into Scorpius when I come back to the dungeons. It's almost midnight and if it wasn't for Rose Weasley, daughter of wizarding world saviors and best student of Hogwarts, I wouldn't be able to walk back there without Mr Filch giving me detention.

But there is someone in our Common Room, sitting by the hearth, reading a book.

I nearly have a stroke during the few nanoseconds that it takes me to analyse who this is and come to the conclusion that it's not Scorpius.

Or Alejandro.

Or Lana.

I know the blond, wavy-haired girl that's sitting on the leather armchair. I know her because I've heard almost every boy our age at Hogwarts make degrading comments about her body and the way she dresses. Although I've never found her pretty – she has a thin, pointed face and widely set pale blue eyes, dull blond hair, and so few brain cells I've always wondered how her IQ could be sufficient to _ever_ make her _cunning_ enough to be Sorted in Slytherin – I have to admit miniskirts and impressive cleavage are noticeable even underneath our school uniforms. Thus I get what the fuss the boys make is about, even though I despise it.

There are many ways for a girl to be popular. Some of us, like myself, choose the high way by not compromising with who they really are. Others, like her, choose… well, the slutty way.

Boys definitely are silly creatures if exposed skin is enough to make them consider a girl interesting and beautiful.

Which fifth-year Slytherin Katrina Nilkovitch certainly isn't.

But it's too late, she's heard me entering the room.

Now I'm going to have to make small talk with her. _Brilliant_.

This is officially the shittiest Sunday ever.

'Hello Rose,' she says cheerfully when she turns around to acknowledge my presence.

_You can try your arse off, sweetie, I'm never going to be your friend._

'Hey Katrina,' I simply mumble as I sit down on the couch opposite her.

As my eyes trail on her cheap acrylic French manicure, they stop dead on track on the book she holds in her short, chubby fingers –

'What's that book you're reading?' I almost exclaim in disbelief.

'Oh, that?' She shifts her hair like the shallow little thing she is, 'It's _Crime and Punishment_.'

_I know what the book is, you twat. I'm just astounded it could land in your hands._

_Not that you could ever understand it or even grasp a particle of its depth._

'Do you like it?' I diplomatically ask instead.

'Yes, it reminds me of my heritage,' she sighs meanigfully in a way that is supposed to look inspired and intelligent, I think.

_Heritage?_ Please hold my hair while I vomit. Just because you're a tenth generation Russian and your family name still ends with _-vitch _doesn't mean you have anything in common with genius Dostoievski.

'OK,' I almost snort – diplomatically, of course.

She doesn't get the sarcasm – she obviously doesn't have a second level – but instead she bats her lashes furiously and asks something that takes me off guard:

'Tell me Rose, do you know Scorpius Malfoy very well?'

Of course I know him very well. _Everybody_ knows I know him very well. Everybody knows we're Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, best friends that have ever been.

Even _you_ should have that piece of information deeply carved into your three remaining brain cells.

But wait – _why does she ask?_

'I guess I do…' I answer, my tone clearly suspicious.

'Because if you could introduce me…' she muses, and the end of her sentence is so obvious even _she_ doesn't feel the need to say it.

I vomit a little. Inwardly.

I'm not going to let that bitch try to put the moves on Scorpius.

To say he's too good for her doesn't even begin to cover it.

Then why on earth do I feel _threatened_?

What if Scorpius was just as driven by his teenage male hormones than any other boy at Hogwarts?

What if he fell for her well-shaped arse and big cleavage and provocative miniskirts?

How could I ever dream to win him back after that?

A swift peep at my standard-size breasts and my boyish jeans confirms that I should defend Scorpius against that slutty hag.

'Yeah, I don't think I can,' I hear myself say, sounding aloof. 'You see, I think he already likes another girl.'

I wish he did. I wish he liked _me_.

But in desperation, that's the best excuse I come up with.

'Oh,' she simply says, for it takes time for her tiny brain to process the information. But then she suddenly grins and pats my arm, sitting up from the armchair:

'Alright then.'

And she struts out of the Common Room, _Crime and Punishment_ illegitimately – such people should not own such books – stuck under her arm.

_Uh-oh._

Either she's stupid to the point of brain-dead and didn't get a word I said, or I may have just awaken the Slytherin in her.

* * *

I sleep very little that night, and the night after, and the night after.

Insomnia has become the pattern of my nights just as being uncomfortable and fidgetty around Scorpius has become the pattern of my days.

When he talks to me I feel so awkward and delighted at the same time that I wonder how he hasn't noticed anything yet. I can only assume that since he's been around me for such a long time, he doesn't pick on momentary phases like this.

If only this could be a _momentary_ phase.

I dream about Scorpius everytime I manage to fall asleep, and each dream is just as vivid and graphic as the one I had on his bed.

And I tell you, he's not being very friendly with me in those dreams.

Or he's being a little _too_ friendly if you know what I mean.

Ha. Ha.

Because that's all I'm going to get.

Day after day it dawns faster and faster on me that he's perfect – that I definitely can't be without him and yet can't be with him. And I'm in so much pain when he's not around and in such ecsatsy when he sits next to me on the couch of our Common Room and we read together in silence that I begin to wonder how people actually survive being in love. Being Romeo and Juliet would have probably killed me faster than the poison they drank – and the worst thing is, Scorpius and I have all the right background to be a modern Romeo and Juliet – except that Juliet's love is unreturned in this version.

Maybe Romeo and Juliet survived so long because they had a love to share.

That's what I'm thinking about during Charms on Thursday – and getting ready for rather terrible NEWTs results if I keep on that daydreaming road – when a crisp little sound on my desk wakes me up from my reverie.

A balled up piece of paper has landed on the table.

I swiftly take it and hide it in my fist while I take a quick look around to find out which direction the paper came from.

I see Scorpius quickly look down on his parchement, a lopsided little smile on his lips, his hair falling in his eyes.

My heart is hammering so violently against my ribcage I swear it might break it.

I look in awe at the tiny ball laying on my palm: I want to open it and read Scorpius professing his love for me on it, and at the same time I don't want to open it if the message in it is something as trivial as the flavour of the pudding for today's lunch.

I decide the only way to know if I _want_ or if I _don't want _to open it is to open it. And regret it or not afterwards.

Although the message in itself doesn't help because it's probably the most neutral and perplexing thing I have ever read:

'_I need to talk to you.'_

Merlin_.  
_

This causes me to spend the rest of the Charms class in a state of willing apathy – better not feel anything at all than burst up with all the feelings that are currently battling in my gut to get out.

After Professor Flitwick dismisses us, I wait for Scorpius to come and talk to me, because I might betray one of my many inappropriate emotions if I go there and talk to him first.

Naturally, Scorpius has nothing to hide from me and walks straight at me after packing his parchment and quill.

The classroom has emptied.

We're all alone.

'So, you got my message, didn't you?' he asks breezily.

'Yeah, I did,' I say, showing him the piece of scribbled parchment. 'What do you need to talk about?'

The words come out casually but my insides are churning with nerves.

He sits lightly on the side of my desk and I remain seated, not daring to move, Stunned by a wave of his subtle cologne and general marvelous scent. I stare at him with my mouth half-gaping and I really must look like a complete fool right now because –

'Ground control to Rose Weasley!' he snaps his fingers in front of my face and gives me a mock-concerned look.

'Sorry! Sorry!' I apologise, shaking my head.

'Merlin, Rose, you can be so distracted sometimes,' he sighs.

_It's all because of you, you beautiful idiot._

'Yes, I was still wondering about that last spell Flitwick taught us…'

'The singing canaries? It's quite useless, don't you think?'

'Not if you use them for _Oppugno_,' I smile knowingly, remember a conversation I once had with my mum about when dad and she were young.

Scorpius raises an eyebrow, which, unfortunately, makes him ever more sexy than he already is.

It's going to be really hard to focus.

'So, what do you want to say?'

'It's about the trip to Hogsmeade this weekend,' he says, and it feels like I've been splashed with iced water.

_Shit._

_The Hogsmeade weekend._

_Alejandro._

_Does he know?_

'I know we're usually going together,' he goes on, 'so…'

'It's alright,' I interrupt him, 'I have… kind of… sort of… a date this Saturday.'

He stares at me blankly for a second.

'You _kind of sort of have a date_?', he asks, and I can't figure out if his tone is mocking, disbelieving or… shocked.

'Yeah, sorry… Alejandro Garcia asked me,' – I just don't have the guts to tell the truth right now, the truth being _I_ asked him – 'and I… I just thought we could change the usual pattern for once. I mean, we always go together…'

I hear myself looking for excuses and I hate the way my voice sounds – as if I was _begging_ him not to be mad.

'It's OK.'

His voice is quiet, casual – but there is suddenly an unusual dry, cold glint in his eyes.

I'm a little taken aback by his reaction.

'Is it?'

'Yeah.'

'So… you're not mad?'

He stares at me, his eyes as cold as before, a slight frown on his brow.

And then he shrugs and says:

'It's just that… we always go together, and when Katrina Nilkovitch asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her, I thought I should check with you if it was OK. But,' his stare freezes me on the spot, 'since you already have a date, maybe I'll go with her.'

My insides don't squirm, don't churn anymore. It feels as if I've swallowed a bucket of ice.

_Nilkovitch._

_You bitch._

_I'll make you eat your cheap fishnet stockings for this._

A little voice in the back of my head reminds me that I must keep looking calm, collected – even happy for my friend who's got a date.

So, with a big, painfully forced grin and an enthusiasm so fake it would make a first year Hufflepuff snort sarcastically, I say stupidly:

'Brilliant! We should double date!'

Scorpius doesn't lose his cool and raises an eyebrow, as if to show me he's on to it.

'Perfect. Thats will be just _perfect_.'

And then he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom as if nothing groundbreaking had happened.

And he leaves me dumbstruck, sitting at my desk, and wondering how much my little revelation has upset him.

* * *

Two days later, it's Saturday morning, and a) I still haven't had the opportunity to talk to Scorpius again, whether he's evading me or he's too busy getting ready for his hot date with Slutty Katrina, b) the whole school seems to be buzzing with the news of my date with Alejandro, because many girls throw me dirty looks and many boys congratulate him and pat his shoulder in the corridors.

To be fair to my very sexy date, he's been a perfect gentleman since last Sunday. First of all, not once did I hear him brag about me asking him out – he's kept his lips sealed, just nodding modestly when people ask him about us – and I'm doubly thankful for this because not many boys would have kept their mouths shut and that way, Scorpius still thinks _I_'ve got asked out, not the other way round.

And second of all he's reminded me regularly of our date – not that I could forget about it – but in a very subtle way: by saying hello to me every morning at the Slytherin table, by nodding when he sees me in the corridors, by asking me how my readings go when he finds me in the Common Room with Defense Against the Dark Arts schoolbooks in my lap – in other words, by reminding me everytime he can, without ever mentioning it, and with that exotic accent of his, that we're supposed to spend Saturday together.

Whereas Nilkovitch, on the other hand, has told every living soul at school that she's going to Hogsmeade with Scorpius Malfoy – which must have been an even bigger surprise to them than my date with Alejandro – at least _my_ date is smart and we're well-matched. Scorpius and her – it's just _disturbing_.

And the idea of going on a double date with my best friend _slash_ love of my life and that cow – make it a triple date, as Lana and her Prince Charming are coming too – is so revolting that Lana had to drag me out of bed that day.

Which, knowing what a sleepyhead she usually is, is saying something about both of us: I'm miserable, and she's more excited than she's ever been.

I sit on the edge of the bed and rub my eyes, hoping this has just been a bad dream.

'Come on, Sleeping Beauty, did you forget about _Alejandro_?'

Lana comes into my field of vision - her cheekbones are flushed and her eyes sparkling. Merlin, that's how I should look like on my date. She pronounces Alejandro's name as if it was all bold, capital letters. Wait, _all_ the girls pronounce it that way. I'm the only one who doesn't give a damn about this date, because it screws everything up and I'm the only one to blame.

'No,' I groan defensively, 'I'm just tired.'

'You're not allowed to be tired,' she tuts, rummaging through my trunk. 'Today is the day when you have a date with the most beautiful man that has ever graced that school, and most importantly, today's the day when you meet my boyfriend Jake.'

She trows a dark green coton dress and black tights in my face, and I push them away tiredly.

'Do I really have to do this?'

She stands in front of me, hands on her waist.

'Rose, I would have done it for you.'

We stare at each other for a second, and as I search her eyes for information – _how much does she know?_ – I realise, if that date had been about me and Scorpius, I would have loved her to share my happiness.

'You're right, I'm sorry,' I apoligise, getting up and taking the clothes she picked with me. I walk up to her, cup her cheek and say sweelty : 'I know I have a date too, but today is about _you_, sweetie.'

She chuckles and pats my hand.

'Thanks.'

I let her go and turn to go to the bathroom.

'I'm having a quick shower, wait for me downstairs, OK?'

'Sure,' Lana chirps, happy again. 'Don't take too long!'

* * *

After I get out of the bathroom, showered, dressed and subtly perfumed – I still don't know if all this effort is to please Alejandro, seduce Scorpius or outshine Katrina, the third option being the least difficult to achieve – I quickly grab my handbag on the floor near my bed and run down the stairs to the Common Room.

The vision that greets me is something I was expecting – but it still feels like being stabbed in the gut to see them all sitting on the couch and armchairs, Katrina's arm casually thrown around Scorpius's shoulders as if he belonged to her. Her skirt is certainly the shortest one on the market - maybe they make those expressly for her - and her Vneck sweater is gaping so much I can actually see her red lace bra.

I guess she's not the kind of girl to be afraid of promiscuity on first dates.

Which strangely doesn't make me feel better about this.

Scorpius's face is unreadable, just like it's been for most of this week. I notice that I've had trouble interpreting his expressions since the fateful night when I admitted my feelings for him to myself. Is love blinding me or has he changed too?

Fortunately, as Katrina giggles idly next to him, I catch him rolling his eyes oh so slightly – which is the only positive sign that gives me the strength to walk down the remaining stairs and step into the Common Room with a friendly face and a bright good morning grin.

Lana is glowing with such happiness that it almost hurts me to look at her because it reminds me so much of what I haven't.

And Alejandro sits up from his armchair and walks up to me. He's looking amazing in his crisp white shirt and dark blue jeans. And before I have the time to say anything he takes my hands in his, leans towards me and lightly pecks my cheek. It's awkward and sweet, and I'm so surprised by this public display of affection that I can literally feel myself blush.

'Don't be so shy, _Rosie_, it must be how they greet their dates in Mexico,' a mocking voice comes from behind my brown-eyed boy, and I cross Scorpius's stare the way others might cross swords.

He never calls me _Rosie_ – because I simply hate this un-Slytherin pet name and he agrees with me.

His tone is superficially joking but I can sense the sarcasm underneath it.

Like his date is better than mine.

'Because sitting in each other's lap is the way the _British_ greet their dates?' I snap back, sticking my tongue out at him playfully – only he and I know the battle is declared. If he's going to insult my date, I'm going to _crush_ his.

The spirit of Salazar Slytherin is in me too, after all.

It works, because Scorpius seems to notice Katrina has already gone too far and he pushes her aside – and he's not even gentle, I notice to my great satisfaction.

Lana, on the other hand, seems to be totally oblivious of the battle of wits that's going on right in front of her. She doesn't pick on anything we've said, and instead, grins more enthusiastically than ever and gestures us to the door:

'Let's go! Jake is waiting for us!'

And she strolls out of the dungeons, leaving Slut Queen, Scorpius, Alejandro and I following her lead.

On our way to Hogsmeade, Lana keeps leading the way, only this time her beloved Jake Jerrod is walking next to her at her pace. The tall, beautiful girl and the skinny, pale brown-haired boy have been talking animately since they met in the Great Hall and, as we come closer to the wizarding village, their laugh grows louder and louder, their faces pinker and pinker, and their eyes sparkle with such obvious pleasure that I can't help but envy them. I don't know what Jerrod tells Lana to make her laugh so much, but now I kind of regret my first reaction when she told me about him: a boy that makes her so alive and happy can't be that bad after all.

Too bad another couple is walking just behind them and constantly brings my focus back at them. Because I can't avoid Nilkovitch: she's literally all over Scorpius, touching his arm as if to squeeze his bicep underneath his coat and make sure he's really muscular, throwing her arms around his neck in wild displays of affection – and even if I couldn't see her, I could still hear her babbling loudly with that shrill, annoying voice of hers. I can't see Scorpius's face, but if I am annoyed, there's no way he isn't. I give it five minutes before he shoves her into the nearest mud pond.

Of course, I'm so engrossed in the contemplation of the couples walking in front of me that I've completely forgotten about Alejandro – which is quite a shame, really, since he's hot and intelligent, unlike other people if you know who I'm referring to. The sound of his husky voice brings me back to reality and I find myself walking along a dirt road, surrounded by the desolated winter landscape of Scotland in November.

'You seem away, Rose,' Alejandro sounds a little worried.

'Oh, no, I'm not,' I say soothingly, as casually as if he hadn't interrupted my thoughts. 'The winter landscapes always have this effect on me.'

'I like winter,' he says simply, exhaling a cloud of breath just for fun. 'In Puebla, we never have proper winters like in England. This is a new experience for me.'

I look at him, and something nice moves in my chest. He's such a big boy – literally – and he certainly has the potential to be as sarcastic and mean as any Slytherin – that is, when he'll learn more about the many subtleties of our beautiful language. But at the same time – he's just a little boy who's moved away from home, pretending that he's tough and that he fits in.

'I'm glad you like it,' I say softly – and I can't help but feel the same amazement as his when my breath comes out in a cloud too. 'I was wondering how you were coping with the change of climate, language, culture… all of this.'

'You _were_?'

His eyes widen in surprise. He looks… flattered. Happy.

_Don't let him get his hopes too high._

'I mean, you know, _everybody_ does.'

_Lame_.

But it works.

His face falls slightly. And then he turns his gaze to the frozen fields and looks into the distance.

Could I hate myself more?

* * *

After ten more minutes during which Alejandro and I hardly talk, our awkward silence only disturbed by Jake and Lana's fits of laughter and Katrina's harpy cries, we finally enter Hogsmeade.

_Good_.

Maybe now Alejandro and I can find a quiet place where we can get a nice cup of tea and where I can tell him this is not going to work despite how nice he is.

'Guys,' Lana shouts at us from the front of the Three Broomsticks, 'let's get a table together!'

_Or not._

To be fair, she wants me to get to know her boyfriend better.

To be fair, I haven't told her anything about Scorpius or Alejandro or Katrina and she's not aware of the sheer horror of spending another minute in such ill-assorted company.

To be fair, I don't know how to get out of it.

So I shrug, look at Alejandro, try to smile at the sight of his velvety brown eyes, take his arm and move forward.

The look Scorpius throws me leaves me more perplexed than ever.

Inside the Three Broomsticks, it's warm and loud and friendly as it should be in an English pub, and somehow I find myself glad that Alejandro should experience another great British tradition like this. I turn to check if he's comfortable, and as my gaze meets his, I give him a genuine smile that he soon shares with me.

This is a little better.

Because as I understand, he's my only lifebelt in a sea of indifference and wariness. Lana and Jake are already talking together forehead against forehead again, as if they were the only two people on the planet, and even though I'm happy for them, I wish they would at least pretend they care about us since they were the ones who suggested we should have a drink together.

Scorpius and I exchange glances every now and then, and I realise neither of us can hold the other's gaze for longer than a few seconds. It's no longer a game we play. It's a game we both lost at when dates became part of the story.

The only one who seems – willingly or not, how can I tell with someone so dim – unconcerned about the obvious general awkwardness is Nilkovitch. She never stops cackling and touching Scorpius. He doesn't seem to pay too much attention to her – maybe he's developped some kind of immunity to the annoying sound of her voice and the feel of her chubby fingers.

There we all are.

If those were the Olympic Games of Awkwardness, we would be in for the gold.

The waitress appears next to us and asks if we're ready to order. Jake orders two Butterbeers – one of him and one for Lana – and Lana gazes at him like he's the manliest man in the Universe. Nilkovitch orders a hot chocolate with lots of wipped cream and chocolate flakes on it – giggling, of course. Scorpius orders a cup of black coffee – the way he always drinks it, I remember, and my heart gives a little squeeze.

And Alejandro leans over me and asks, talking near my ear so I can hear him over the din of the room:

'What is _Butterbeer_?'

I chuckle, because _come on_. You _have_ to be a foreigner not to know about this great British wizarding drink. Do Mexican ever drink anything else apart _Corona_?

'You've _got_ to try it,' I laugh, touching his arm – which is firm and muscular, yes, but it wasn't my intention to find out, I'm just letting you know – _touching_ him for the first time since the beginning of the most bizarre date in History – and I tell the waitress:

'Two Butterbeers for us too, please!'

After the waitress is gone, I turn to look at Alejandro and I burst into giggles again. He laughs too, and then, unexpectedly –

He takes my hand that is resting on the table and holds it into his.

And without me acting against it, he entwines our fingers together.

I'm so flabbergasted that my eyes instinctively turn to Scorpius.

He's staring at our hands.

And when he looks up at me, the dry, cold glint in his grey eyes is back, only discernible to me.

And I know right here, at this very moment, as my eyes threaten to fill with tears, that he and I will never be the same again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I know I can't force you - how could I? - but reviews are always appreciated. Even if it's just a few words. Really. So, if you've read this story till the end of this chapter, it means something's kept you hooked, and that you have something to say. So, share your thoughts! **REVIEW!**_

_Until next week, my lovelies._


	7. cause you're hot and you're cold

_Hello,_

_It's been a tough week for me. Sorry I haven't updated earlier, but I was so stressed out I couldn't find inspiration for this. _

_Fortunately there are two very nice and quiet days called the weekend and I had time to update this story. I've only proofread it once so please forgive the typos and grammar mistakes if you find any.  
_

_As usual, read, review and let me know what you thought!_

_**Disclaimer**: **snort** like I could be JK Rowling._

* * *

_**Cause you're hot and you're cold  
You're yes and you're no**_

_**(Katy Perry, **_**Hot'n'Cold**_**)**_

**

* * *

**

Loves changes you. I've always know that. _Known_ it – because I've read about it in Shakespeare's plays, Brontë's and Dostoievski's novels – not _felt_ it.

And now I think it's safe to say I'm experiencing it, since every minute of my life is ridden with symptoms of love.

Love changes _me_. I've always been rather confident about myself – the way I look, the way my mind works, my value as a person – and I've always snickered sarcastically when girls walked in the Slytherin Common Room crying about _this_ boy who treated them like shit or _that_ boy who didn't return their feelings. Because I was certain I would never be stupid enough to fall into that trap.

To my defense, I've never cried in the Common Room. As I decided the night I fell in love with Scorpius, I've acted my arse off.

Which means, on the outside, I'm still the cool, sarcastic, cynical Rose everyone has ever known.

On the inside, however, things tend to be slightly different.

Now I feel self-conscious all the time – because I want to be looking good and having (fake, most of the time) fun in case Scorpius turns up and sees me. Now when Scorpius speaks to me, or even when someone remotely related to Scorpius talks to me, I mumble in such an idiotic manner I come to question my intelligence.

I dream about Scorpius every single night – the dreams are always different, yet always the same, since he's in all of them – and when I wake up from my dreams, just like a drowning person would swim to the surface of the water for air, the first thought that hits me square in the face is : _you're in love with him_.

My life has turned into a perpetual search for air.

Air – Scorpius is like the air I breathe. He's always been, and now that he's slowly drawing away, I realise how indispensible he is.

How I can't live without him.

And how I've polluted the very air I breathe.

The changes are imperceptible, but Scorpius and I both know they're there.

Because somehow now everytime we interact, we do so in an awkward way. When he speaks to me, he has trouble looking me in the eye. When I want to say something to him, I have to think twice whether I _want_ to go through the trouble this is going to cause me or not – and when I do, I have to think for _hours_ about how I'm going to say it in a way that will make me sound smart – even when it's just about a spell we learnt in Tranfiguration class.

As a result, Scorpius and I gradually grow apart.

It's not that I want it – oh no, on the contrary – but it seems inevitable.

Destiny, who was so keen on bringing us together as friends, seems to have changed its mind about our matching potential as lovers – and now tears us apart, just be make sure we won't be tempted.

Especially after our disastrous triple date the weekend after Halloween, that is.

I think I've never been through something as painful as this moment, when Scorpius, Alejandro and I stared at each other awkwardly, incapable of finding a topic to start a casual conversation, while Katrina Nilkovitch gaped like a goldfish at the little moutain of whipped cream and chocolate flakes that topped her beverage. Needless to say, Lana and Jerrod were too deep into a snogging session to notice and try to lighten up the mood.

Alejandro had taken hold of my hand and wouldn't let go. At some point, whether to piss me off or to win the competition, Scorpius grabbed Nilkovitch's chubby fingers and hold them in his. He could have stabbed me right in the heart, it would have felt the same. The image of him gently taking my hand at Hugo's Halloween party and guiding me while we danced came back in a flash and I wanted to scream and smash things and knock the table over until he let go of that bitch.

She doesn't deserve him.

Trouble is, I'm not sure I deserve him either.

I've become this all other person.

The kind of girl that hold Alejandro Garcia's hand.

Not that he's not sexy, sweet or loveable. Merlin no. I am in love, but I am still capable of appreciating nice qualities like his. Because Alejandro Garcia has it all.

And yet, it is not enough.

I want something less perfect, less dreamy, less smooth. I want the necessity, the passion. I want to feel both the nostalgia and the urge to live the present to its fullest. I want both the wisdom and the madness, I want the peace and the ecstasy I only get with Scorpius around. And I've had all this when we were only friends. So just imagine if…

But I can't imagine _anything_.

I'm not _allowed_ to imagine anything.

Not with Alejandro's hand in mine.

So I let go of him, gently, not too briskly, using a sudden urge to take a few gulps of my bottle of Butterbeer as an excuse to do so. He takes the hint and drinks a little too. His hands are muscular and strong and his skin is rougher than Scorpius's. Real Beater's hands.

_Beater._

_Quidditch._

_Right._

Alejandro and Scorpius both play for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Why didn't anyone point this out earlier? This is the perfect topic for conversation for these Quidditch-crazed boys.

'So, Alejandro, Scorpius, when is the next Quidditch match?' I ask ingenuously.

It works like a charm.

Nothing stands in the way of a passion for Quidditch. Not even the slight dislike Scorpius and Alejandro seem to instinctively have for each other.

As planned, Scorpius and Alejandro both roll their eyes at the same time, as if to say _amateur_. And the long-awaited conversation ensues: strategies against the Gryffindor team, who Arcadia Parkinson, Slytherin Captain, could have chosen instead of this Anthony Goyle dirtbag to play Keeper, athlete diets that really work before an important match, and so on, and so forth.

I lose interest after the first few sentences and watch the men debate animately about their favourite topic. Alejandro, short, dark hair, velvety brown eyes, strong jaw and large hands. Scorpius, dirty-blond, ruffled hair, incredible grey eyes, tall, slender, aristocratic. Two different beauties which I couldn't pick my favourite out from if I didn't already know who suited me the most.

I sigh, wondering why in my misfortune I had to be offered a boy like Alejandro to date and not a new heart to love him as I am supposed to as well.

And that's when I catch Lana's eye.

Her eye that sparkle with passion and love and soon with a glint of something else.

_Understanding_.

_Uh-oh._

How much longer did I expect to hide from the world, let alone one of my closest friends?

* * *

I don't have to wait long, actually.

Gryffindor against Slytherin is the second Quidditch match of the year. But the first one was Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw, which basically means the Too-Nice Guys against the Nerdy Guys, and no one ever gets excited over such a programme.

Whereas Gryffindor against Slytherin is the kind of match that sends chills of excitement running down your spine and makes goosebumps erupt on your skin just to think about it. Even if you're not a Quidditch fan. Even if you're, well, _me_.

And especially if the competing teams include, on one side, half your family – Albus as a Seeker, following the glorious steps of his dad, Louis as a Chaser, Hugo as a Keeper and Dominique as Chaser and Captain of the team – and on the other side, the boy who's supposed to be your boyfriend, and the boy who's your best mate and who you're secretly in love with.

It's going to be an epic, heartbreaking game.

And unfortunately, I have no choice but to participate in the general excitement.

It's Scorpius who hunts me down and forces me to.

It's Saturday afternoon, exactly a week after that dreadful Hogsmeade trip.

I'm trying to escape the memory of it, the warm smell of old wood and Firewhiskey that lingered on my skin long after I left the Three Broomsticks, the feel of Alejandro's rough hand holding mine on our way back to the Castle, while Scorpius walked behind us, his arm around Nilkovitch's shoulders – all these memories still burn me like a curse. And the only thing that seems to wash them away a little is the soothing swashing of water, the whisper of the wind in the willow leaves and the strands of grass, the far away hooting of the Hogwarts owls leaving the Owlery.

I'm sitting in the grass, under one of the willow trees growing on the shores of the Lake, wrapped up warmly in layers and layers of Tshirts and woolen jumpers and my winter cloak. I'm definitely not pretty or sexy wearing all this attire, but I don't care – since I'm rather sure that as much as Alejandro appreciates English winter, he's not built to stand too long in that kind of cold.

As for me, the angst of Raskolnikov and Sonia's relationship keeps me warm enough and so engrossed in _Crime and Punishment_ that I don't hear Scorpius approaching. I only notice he's here when he sits down next to me in the crispy grass and sighs a little cloud of breath.

I turn to look at him, and as it takes time for _Crime and Punishment_ to fade away and the vision of Scorpius to become real and clear, I can't help staring at him lovingly, because this is the perfect example of why we're so great together.

Because he knows I love my willow tree spot by the Lake where I can read my book without being disturbed, at any time of the year.

Because he can just walk here, sit down, not say a word and it'll still feel like a display of friendship.

Because we can enjoy the silence together and not feel embarassed about it.

Because, well, who else would have thought of searching for me _here_?

So we simply sit next to each other, enjoying each other's presence, staring at the dark waters of the Lake.

After a while, the hooting of a black owl that perched on the willow tree brings us back to reality. I turn my head toward his and I catch him looking at me too.

'Scorpius-'

'Rose-'

We spoke at the same time.

Which makes us laugh.

Finally.

Still chuckling and feeling a comforting warmth spreading in my stomach, I gesture for him to start speaking.

'Look, Rose,' he says. 'I'm sorry if I've been a little distant this week.' He sighs, stares into the distance, runs his hand in his sleek, tousled hair. 'I don't like to admit it, but the Quidditch match's really got me under stress. It's the first match of the year and Merlin, do we need a win,' – _of course we do. Gryffindor has won every Quidditch Cup for the last five years,_ I think – 'and also…'

He turns to look at me, his beautiful grey eyes piercing mine.

'… I'm playing against your family.'

I squirm uncomfortably.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, I want you to support us, and at the same time I'd understand if you feel like being on Gryffindor's side, what with your brother and all your cousins playing for their team…'

'Scorpius,' I interrupt him. 'I haven't spoken to my family for two weeks now. I'm not happy about it, but since they haven't made the first move so far, no one can blame me for not supporting them next weekend, right? And second of all, I _want_ to support the Slytherin team. Really. Because, hell, I'm a Slytherin before everything else. And because I know how much Quidditch means to you and you're my best friend. And…'

I hesitate for a second before saying this:

'… Alejandro plays for the team as well.'

I don't know what effect my last sentence had on Scorpius. But I had to do it – I have to hide my true feelings behind my fake date, don't I?

Fortunately, Scorpius breaks the silence:

'About that.'

I freeze.

'I'm sorry about that too, Rose.'

I'm so surprised I almost start:

'_What?_'

'Yeah. I haven't been very nice to Alejandro lately, especially on our way to Hogsmeade last week. I'll try my best not to let this happen again. It's just that…' – another sigh, another hand running through his hair – 'you're my best friend and it's your first serious date and I'm… feeling protective of you. But you're smart enough to know what's best for you so… I'll back out, OK?'

'It's not _that_ serious,' I say dismissively, and then regret it immediately afterwards. 'I mean, Alejandro and I barely started dating…'

'I know, but he seems like a good guy,' Scorpius goes on, and suddenly he looks tired, defeated.

'He is.' I have to admit it. And at least this is the truth. 'Katrina seems… _nice_, too.' I venture eventually.

Scorpius remains quiet for a moment.

And then:

'Yeah, she's… _nice_, let's put it that way.'

_Wait._

_What does _that_ mean?_

'So, Rose, you promise you'll be on the Slytherin terraces next Saturday? It's going to be such an important, nerve-raking match, we could use your cheering us on.'

He gets up from the frozen grass, looks down at me, his face serious and his eyes full of the sadness I've learn to find in his eyes everytime he's not entirely happy.

'_I_ could use your cheering _me_ on,' he adds, and after that simply walks away.

He might have just riped my heart into pieces with his sad eyes and incomprehensible innuendos, and all I can think of is _I love you, I love you, I love you._

_

* * *

_

The days after, I'm not very fun to be around.

I guess Lana really _is_ a good friend. She sits next to me in every class we have in common, thus giving me a good excuse not to sit next to Scorpius and turn into jelly everytime his hand comes a little too close to mine.

She bears with me through my morose attitude and my lack of conversation.

She watches me play with my food and barely eat a spoonful of mashed potates.

She even chooses to not spend all her time with her boyfriend just to be on my side in the evenings when I sit in the couch in the Slytherin Common Room, staring idly at the fire.

She finds me on Wednesday evening, sitting on my bed, fully dressed, staring at my socks.

'Merlin, Rose, that must be the most miserable sight I've ever encountered,' she sighs and sits down next to me. She wraps her arm around my shoulder and I instinctively put my head on her shoulder like a little girl that needs comforting.

Acting has become exhausting. I need a break from it, even if that means I'll get exposed.

I'm expecting Lana to start asking questions, and I brace myself for them, because the answers are not going to be easy to confess.

But instead she extends her hand to my nightstand and takes the framed photograph that's standing there, facing the wall instead of the room.

It's the picture of me and Scorpius, and I can't stand looking at it, so I turned it a few weeks ago just to make sure I won't wake up to that painfully happy sight anymore.

And now Lana hands it to me, rubbing my past happiness in my face.

'What?' I groan.

'Look at this picture, Rose,' she says, and her tone is so serious it makes me sit straighter. 'The day you put it in the frame, do you know what my first thought was when I saw it on your nightstand?'

'No,' I say carefully, not knowing where this conversation is going.

'I thought you two would make the most perfect couple in the world one day. And I'm sorry, but this thought has never left me afterwards. Nobody could me more perfect for Scorpius than you are. And nobody could suit you better than Scorpius. So I'm very sorry that you had to find this out on your own and that he hasn't found out yet, but you can't just sulk all day long and hope he'll come alone to the conclusion that you're the ideal woman. No one else can help you. _You_'re the one who has to do something about it. And who has to act fairly quickly, before someone else takes your place.'

I swallow.

'You've known for all this time?'

My eyes meet her big brown eyes and they're full of sympathy.

'Rose, only Scorpius and you are blind enough not to know.'

'What should I do?' My voice comes out all desperate, which is a fair illustration of what I feel.

'Well, first of all you should repair the Alejandro/Katrina damage and show a little more interest in Scorpius. There's the Quiddicth match this Saturday. Go there and be the most supportive best friend anyone has ever had.'

'And then?'

'Then… maybe things will fall into place naturally,' she winks at me.

I even manage to smile a little.

'That's my girl,' Lana says, and give a quick peck on my cheek. 'Now, cheer up please, because I've been trying to do my best not to grab you by the shoulders and shake you up.'

'Thanks, Lana,' I say in earnest.

'You're welcome' she grins, sitting up.

'Where are you going?'

'To meet Jake, of course,' she says, 'with you all despressed, I only spend two hours with him today.'

And as she strolls out of the room, I'm left staring at the photograph on which Scorpius and I are laughing so much – because being the hypothetical most perfect couple in the world sure makes you joyful.

* * *

Saturday comes and Hogwarts is buzzing like a beehive. The excitement is so palpable I wonder if I'm the only one in school who actually thinks Quidditch is just a rather boring game.

At the Slytherin table that morning, people yell encouragments at the members of the team, come and pat their backs, give them Quidditch advice, and the same thing goes on at the Gryffindor table, where Louis, Hugo, Albus and Dominique are hidden by a crowd of supporters already.

Our players receive the same amount of attention though. Arcadia Parkinson can barely eat her breakfast since she's interrupted every thirty seconds by students coming over to her and trying to slip her some tips – I wonder how she stands it, considering she's probably been playing Quidditch since she's three and knows perfectly well what she's doing. Alejandro and Eleanore Nott, the new players of the team, are the centre of all expectations as no one has ever seen them flying – but everyone has heard the rumors saying they're extremely talented.

And Scorpius – well, Scorpius is stuck with Katrina Nilkovitch being her usual self – her shrill, annoying, stupidly giggling self. She's wearing something that can only qualify as a very short, very slutty _négligé_ – although I'm pretty sure she means it as a fancy dress. Even eaten alive by jealousy, I still marvel at how Scorpius manages stay calm and collected even in the most stressful situations – and I'm talking about Nilkovitch here, not the Quidditch match.

From where I'm sitting, a few seats aways from Scorpius, I give him encouraging glances whenever I catch his eye. Lana is sitting at the table opposite me, Jake Jerrod next to her, and smiles at me sympathetically.

Somehow, it gives me strength to know Lana is on my side. If I had known this, I would have told her about my feelings for Scorpius earlier. After she's told me she thought we should be together, I found myself hoping for an occasion when I can make my feelings for Scorpius clear.

And now even the presence of Nilkovitch doesn't deter me.

Because if this is meant to be, it will happen no matter how.

And nothing can trigger a profession of love more effectively than an outrageous win at a Quidditch match.

That's why I've suddenly become a Quidditch fan.

There's a movement in the crowd of students and everybody sits up at the same time. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams are ready to go down to the pitch, and the rest of the school gets ready to follow them. Scorpius throws me one last look, and Alejandro waves at me, and I wave back encouragingly.

I sit up and join Lana and Jerrod who're standing holding each other's hand in the middle of the Hall. Lana puts her arm around my shoulders as if to tell me she's here for me and I look at her gratefully.

'Are you ready?' she asks, and I know she means it as _Are you ready to go_ as much as _Are you ready to talk to Scorpius_.

And I think I am.

'Let's go,' I simply say, and we all walk down to the Entrance Hall and down the Hogwarts grounds to the Quidditch pitch.

The atmosphere in the pitch is truly electrifying. I begin to understand why so many witches and wizards are addicted to this sport: when you walk into a Quidditch stadium, you can't help but be swept off your feet. All these enthusiastic faces. All these slogans and songs. All the sound and the fury of the beginnings of a game.

I can't say I'm not drawn by the general excitment right now.

So I sit down next to Lana and Jake and wait for the match to start while looking around, awestruck.

It's not the first time I've been to a Quidditch game, but it certainly is the first time the stakes are so high.

For the teams as well as for me.

A drumroll kind of sound echoes in the terraces – I realise it's coming from the crowd, as the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams enter the pitch, brooms on their shoulders, noses up high, menacing glints in their eyes.

Arcadia Parkinson is the first Slytherin team member in line, and her black hair and green eyes shine with pride and determination. Despite her wide frame and strong jaw, she's almost pretty in her deep green and silver Quidditch robes.

After her walks Alejandro, and I can hear all the girls squeal excitedly when he appears on the field. He stands tall and proud and I know I wouldn't want to cross him if I was playing for the other team.

Eleanore Nott is third in line, small and thin and very young – she's a third year – like Seekers usually are. She's been said to be a rising talent of the team and I find myself eager to find out if the rumours are true. Seekers are the most precious members of a Quidditch team, and as a way to make it clear no one should dare hurt her, she's framed by the tallest boys of the team.

Because Alejandro walks before her and Scorpius is in her wake.

When I spot his blond head in the line, I'm suddenly gaping for air. I don't know if it's the Quidditch robes or the look on his face or just something that's in the air, but if I wasn't already desperately, irrevocably in love with him, I would fall in love with him right here and now.

This is Scorpius at his best. His sexy blond hair is more ruffled than ever with the November wind blowing in the Quidditch pitch. His pale cheeks are slightly pinker. His Quidditch robes suit him better than they suit any other member of the team, emphasizing his tall, slender body and wide shoulders. And his expression sums up everything I've come to know so well about him: his willingness to prove the world wrong by being the best, the sadness that's so deeply carved into his eyes, and the competitive spark that's a warning that he'll do everything he can to win.

I unwillingly tear my gaze from him to look at the Gryffindor team. The looks of their faces are basically the same as the Slytherins' which means the match is going to be hard and full of twists and turns.

My cousins, usually so loud and buoyant and ready to step out of the line are now focused and serious. I wonder what Uncle Harry and my dad would say if they knew their children were capable of such maturity.

Miss Hooch, the daughter of my dad's Quidditch instructor, now Hogwarts's Quidditch instructor herself, blows her wristle three times and the magically magnified sound makes all the pitch fall silent at once.

Dominique Weasley and Arcadia Parkinson walk towards each other and shake each other's hand, not an ounce of mercy in their eyes.

'At the count of three,' Miss Hooch's voice echoes in the stadium, 'mount your brooms and fly! May the best team win!'

I cross my fingers, although I'm not sure which team I'd like to see winning the most.

And before I know it, Miss Hooch shouts 'Three!' and the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams are swirling in the air, green and silver flying next to red and gold.

And I'm already biting my nails. How can they fly and turn and loop the loop so carelessly when one of them could so easily fall from their brooms?

Scorpius has taken hold of a Quaffle and speeds towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Hugo's glare doesn't seem to distract him and he throws the red ball right in the middle of the only hoop my brother isn't covering. This is the first point for Slytherin and I jump up in the air, yelling and shouting happily at the top of my lungs, while everybody around me stares at me quizzically – because if there is one thing I've made pretty clear over the years, it's my dislike of Quidditch.

And Scorpius, who flies back to Arcadia with a dazzling smile on his face, grins wider when he catches my eye.

Which makes all this match worth it, in my opinion.

The game continues and Scorpius keeps scoring more points than any other Chaser, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Hugo's frown deepens by the minute and soon everytime Scorpius flies closer to his hoops his face takes a desperate expression that would make me laugh sarcastically if the boy wasn't my brother.

Not that anybody other than Scorpius counts at the moment.

I simply can't take my eyes off of him.

The count is now a hundred and fifty for Slytherin against seventy for Gryffindor and you can actually sense the Gryffindor team's mood drop by the minute.

And suddenly –

The whole crowd vibrates with _ooooh_s –

Because Eleanore Nott has just dove towards the ground and Albus Potter is chasing her as fast as he can –

But Eleanore is lighter and quicker and her broom makes a breathtaking U-turn just before it hits the ground and she races back to the sky, tiny golden wings fluttering out of her closed fist.

Slytherin has caught the Snitch first.

The whole Quidditch pitch sits up and shouts and growls and I'm probably the loudest of them all.

'YES!'

Lana and Jake Jerrod are standing next to me, cheering as well, although they look a little taken aback by my sudden enthusiasm for Quidditch – even though Lana knows where it comes from.

The Slytherin team lands next to the defeated Gryffindor team. Their faces beam gloriously, constrasting with the morose sneer on Dominique and Hugo's faces.

'I've got to go!' I shout excitedly at Lana. 'I'll meet you in the Common Room!'

And I rush out of the pitch and to the changing room where the Slytherin team must be by now.

The room is buzzing with happy cheers and fits of laugher and clapping hands. I push away the heavy green velvet drape that hides the entrance and step in, dazzled.

The whole team is already celebrating, and Alejandro spots me immediately and walks up to me grinning: 'We did it, Rose! We did it!', and then he wraps his arms around me and presses me in a bear-hug.

Over his shoulder, I see Arcadia Parkinson holding out glasses of champagne for all the players and all the people that have come to congratulate them –

Among which a familiar, annoying, slutty dull-blond girl –

Who squeals and throws her arms around Scorpius's neck and kisses him full on the lips.

I stare at them, mouth gaping, dumbstruck.

My mind has gone blank.

I can't believe it.

Until I catch Scorpius's eye, which widens when he sees me.

I squirm out of Alejandro's embrace and mumble an excuse. I don't know where I am, I don't remember my own name right now.

I turn on the spot and run away.

Despite Scorpius calling my name behind me.

Because this might as well be an illusion too.

The only thing I'm certain of right now is this:

_It's too late._

_

* * *

REVIEWS are loved, thanks!  
_


	8. leave all your loving behind

_Hello,_

_Here's a new chapter. Writing is getting harder now the story comes slowly to an end... I have many ideas I want to fit in this story and I don't know if the plot will take them all... That's why updates are slower - and also because I go out way too much instead of staying home and writing this ;)_

_Hopefully this chapter won't be too terrible. Feed me your thoughts as usual! Reviews=love and faster updates (not because I like to blackmail you, but because they're a good inspirational fuel)_

_PS: some reviewers pointed out the Rose/Scorpius/Katrina/Alejandro love triangle (or rectangle) reminded them a lot of Ron/Hermione/Lavender's love triangle in HBP. I'm very sorry if it did - I took my inspiration from real life (happened to some of my friends) not from JKR's plot. I'll try not to let this story become a HBP deja-vu in the future.  
_

* * *

_**Leave all your loving, your loving behind  
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive**_

**(Florence + The Machine, _Dog Days Are Over_)**

**

* * *

**

Until today, I used to love Hogwarts.

Hogwarts has been my home since the night of the Sorting, six years ago.

Hogwarts has been this incredible place where I could learn cool things, important things, magical things that made me feel special.

Hogwarts has been a paradise for rule-breakers who dared pace its corridors after curfew – and I was the greatest of them all.

And most importantly, Hogwarts has been the place where I met Scorpius, my best friend, my soulmate, someone my life would have been completely different without.

But Hogwarts is not all that anymore.

Hogwarts has become the place where try as I may, I cannot avoid Scorpius.

Every corridor, which I used to know every square inch of, is now an emotional minefield.

Every classroom means risking being Avada Kedavra'd on the spot by my own pain.

Meals at the Slytherin table are not even conceivable.

Anywhere that's not the safety of my bed is dangerous for my mental health.

I lie there all Sunday, curled up under the covers, somewhere between sleep and wake, hoping to go completely numb.

My roomates have the decency to leave me alone, and even Lana understands she'd better no try to pull me out of bed and have a talk.

I wait for me to die of shame, grief or physical pain.

Die of shame because I thought, for one second – and on Lana's advice – that something could happen with Scorpius. I'm ashamed because I ran towards my very own downfall: if I had walked back to the castle with Lana and Jake after the Quidditch match, I might have never seen Scorpius and Nilkovitch share that first kiss. I could have at least pretended I didn't care. Someone would have warned me beforehand and I would have been able to compose a casual face when I saw them together in the Common Room after the game.

But when I escaped Alejandro's embrace at the sight of Scorpius and that _b _– wait, no, I can't find a word degrading enough to qualify her – and Scorpius saw me running away, it felt like the most humiliating moment of my life.

Which is rather new for me, since I've never let anyone get at me like this in the past.

But what can I do now? Duel with myself to make me pay for the humiliation?

But deeper than shame, grief literally eats me alive.

Because Scorpius is gone and I don't think I can live without him, because I never had to, and I never imagined losing him one day. And everything happened so suddenly – falling in love with him, trying to hide it from him, wanting to let him know, finding him kissing another girl – that it feels as if my life is crumbling down like a fragile sandcastle.

I don't think I can be friends with him anymore.

That's why I'm lying in my bed, eyes open, curled up on my side fœtus-style, staring at the wall, hoping the pain in my gut will eventually go away.

I don't even want to cry.

Something has dried inside me.

Hopefully it's my heart.

* * *

Yet a repeated little tapping noise keeps nagging me. I wish all my senses would go as numb as my mind. I close my eyes, wondering if this is a side effect of my misery – soon I'll start hearing voices in my head and the next stop will be St Mungo's – but the tapping keeps echoing in my ears.

If anything, it's getting stronger, more urgent.

I groan desperately and pop myself up on my elbow. Squinting to help my eyes focus after the long idle staring they've just gone through, I realise the noise is coming from the window.

Artemis, my tiny silver owl, is trying to catch my attention, tapping her beak and claws on the glass.

She has a letter tied to her leg – which means someone is trying to contact me when no one should.

But my sweet little owl doesn't have anything to do with my current state of general hatred for the world – and myself – and I drag myself to the window.

When I open it, the tiny bird flutters inside, chirping excitedly. Being the owner of Artemis is like being a princess in a Disney film – except the princess doesn't wear old pyjamas, doesn't have bags under her eyes and doesn't let her hair grow so messy you could nest an entire flock of owls in it.

How nice to remind me I am not a dream girl.

I stroke Artemis's head distractedly while I untie the parchment rolled around her leg. Once she's free, Artemis flies back to the window, perches on the windowsill and hoots shriller and louder, jumping up and down on her tiny feet.

'What?' I grumble.

She keeps doing her little dance.

I walk up to her and look over the windowsill.

There's a stack of rolled-up pieces of parchment piled up outside the window.

I stare at them for a minute, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do with this. But Artemis's behaviour finishes waking me up and I understand these letters are probably meant for me.

I grab an armful of parchment, shut the window clumsily and walk back to my bed. I sit down on the mattress, let the rolls of parchement spread everywhere on the bed, and pick the first roll on the pile.

It's a note from Scorpius.

Without even reading it I recognise the slanted, elegant writing at once. I throw it away angrily.

I pick another letter.

Same slanted writing.

Same furious gesture.

I pick a third roll of parchement.

_What am I doing?_

These are _all_ from Scorpius.

* * *

When I storm in the Great Hall, it's dinner time and the place is so packed with students babbling, gossiping and complaining about the end of the weekend that the air buzzes with electricity.

Somehow my arrival works like an electric black-out.

The fact that I haven't left my room since yesterday afternoon instead of celebrating our victory at Quidditch with the rest of my House hasn't been left unnoticed, apparently.

It seems the Hall falls silent as I stomp my way to the Slytherin table, my target being a handsome dirty-blond boy whose head slowly turns towards me as he notices the change in the atmosphere.

Scorpius's face instantly lightens up with a grin when he sees me, and then slowly reverts to quizzical and even a little worried as he reads the expression on my face.

Because my eyes are ablaze with fury and my face is probably redder than my hair right now.

While I unrolled roll after roll of parchment only to find out that Scorpius had tried to send me about forty letters since yesterday, I experienced something that I never thought I would in a million years: _rage_.

In all these years, I had never, once, been angry at Scorpius. Ever.

I never had a reason to be.

And now, now forty pieces of parchment all covered with his pleading, apologising, worried slanted writing lied on my bed and on the floor around it, I realised. I shouldn't be mad at _me_. Well, not only.

I should be mad at _him_.

Because if he's going to break my heart without even noticing, at least he can have the decency not to try and explain. He can go and rip my heart all the way out and never say that he's sorry, that he didn't know Katrina would kiss him, that he didn't want to kiss her in the first place and that he pulled away as soon as he could, that he ran after me to explain.

He should just have the guts to take responsibility for this.

He should know better than to disappoint me.

He should be able to accept the end of our friendship with dignity.

Now I'm seething and it's irrational, because none of us is guilty. I fell in love with him, he didn't know, we kept acting like we always did but something – _someone_ – had to break at some point.

This is it.

The breaking point.

I still have no valid reason to be mad at him except that I expected him to leave me alone after betraying me like this. Even if they triggered my anger, the notes he sent me are a good thing though, because now I get to feel something else than pain and desperation.

So I run out of my bedroom, ready to vent my rage on him.

I finally come to an halt just in front of him and Merlin, I must look threatening because I swear he shrinks a little on the bench he's sitting.

I rummage in the pockets of my school robes and take out as many of his notes I could fit in there and throw them to his face.

'Rose –'

'_How dare you_,' I hiss through gritted teeth. 'Why don't you leave me alone, _Malfoy_?'

He looks surprised and hurt. Because I've never called him _Malfoy_ and today the way I say it makes it sound like an insult.

'Rose, let me explain,' he mutters, casting looks left and right and trying to calm me down.

But I'm not going to let him get away with this that easily.

I'm furious, I'm not sure why, but I only know I have to take him down with me.

'Look, stop pretending you care about me, OK?' My voice rings louder in the absolute silence of the Hall. 'I came to watch you play yesterday because you asked me to, and after that you choose to celebrate with…_someone else_,' I find Nilkovitch sitting a few seats away and my eyes throw daggers at her – which seem to have the desired effect as she disappears under the table with a squeak – 'I understood there's no reason to pretend we're still what we were before…' I shut my eyes and breathe in deeply before I go on: 'So please, have the decency not to disturb my life with your displays of friendship anymore.'

Scorpius looks stunned, so deeply hurt that he doesn't even care about everybody witnessing the scene.

And I can't help but hate myself for what I'm doing to him, although I know I'm still mad. But now, the big difference is that I'm back at hating myself.

Because he'll always be my soulmate and I'll always bleed when he hurts. The fact that I'm the one who hurts him doesn't change a thing.

He looks up at me now, and there's this glint in his eye that tells me he's not done fighting either.

Which he does by briskly sitting up, grabbing me by the upper arm and dragging me out of the Hall altogether. The reversal of the situation is so sudden I don't even think of putting up a struggle. As soon as we leave, the buzzing of a thousand voices starts again.

When the door of the Great Hall shuts behind us, I realise he's led me to a safer, quieter corridor. It is dark and cold compared to the warm, alight Hall and a million questions race through my brain as I squint my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.

Scorpius lets go of my arm and almost pushes me against the cold stone wall.

His hurt has turned into anger too. _Good_. Now we're two to be mad at each other.

He walks the two steps that separate us and almost presses his body against mine as he says through gritted teeth, rage flashing in his eyes :

'I don't _want_ to leave you alone, Rose.'

I'm left speechless.

He's so close his hot breath tickles my nose.

So close I could see every dot of colour in his grey eyes squinted with fury and pain if it wasn't so dark.

'I don't _pretend_ I care about you. I _do_ care about you. Every word I wrote you is true. I didn't know this was going to happen, OK?'

He grabs my arms again and shakes me a little while speaking.

I don't make a sound.

The stones of the wall press against my back and it hurts a little, but I'm too dazed to even notice.

A few minutes ago I was so righteously angry – or so it felt. Now Scorpius is towering over me, grey eyes ablaze, his beautiful face contorted with rage and pain, and the situation feels like a whole different world, light-years away from my outburst in the Great Hall.

We're facing each other, panting slightly, and despite the tension and anger I distinctly sense the intimacy of the moment.

Because even if it's far from ideal, at least it's only the two of us now.

It feels dangerous and exciting and bad and I've never felt more alive than at this point.

'Now tell me why you had to make a scene,' Scorpius orders, pressing his burning fingers deeper into my arm.

'Because I want our friendship to end with dignity, not with you harassing me with written excuses,' I spit back, and then shudder, because my retort apparently hit a sensitive spot. Scorpius's eyes narrow down to slits and I realize I've never seen him like this.

We never fought before.

'And you thought coming down to the Great Hall during dinner on a Sunday and yelling at me was _dignified_?' he snorts spitefully.

I know I deserved this because I hurt him, but it still sends a guilty pang in my gut.

'Alright,' I concede, only because the feel of his body almost pressing against mine confuses me to the utmost, 'I shouldn't have done that. It was an impulse. I didn't want you to apoligise. I wanted you to acknowledge things will never be the same again.'

He looks down at me blankly, and it makes me mad again.

'_Yes_, Scorpius, please stop ignoring the fact that our friendship has changed!' I go on, louder than before. I want to yell at him, but he's too close, too intimidating. 'You're intelligent, you're honest with yourself, and probably the most perceptive person I know – there's no way you've missed this out!'

He sighs, and the angry glint in his eyes shifts to a more thoughtful expression.

'I know,' he finally agrees with me, which doesn't make me any happier – somehow I wish he would have told me he didn't know what I was talking about, that our relationship hadn't changed at all, that I was still his best friend. 'But I don't think yelling at each other is going to solve anything.'

'Yeah.'

'I'd like to talk this through though,' he keeps on, never meeting my questioning glance. 'I need to understand…' Another sigh, hand in his hair – and my heart aches more than ever because he's so close and so lost and it's all because of me.

And I can't touch him, can't kiss him, can't ruffle his blond hair and make all the confusion, the tension, the awkwardness go away.

'OK,' I say hesitantly.

'I don't know if we'll fix anything, but at least we'll know why it broke in the first place.'

'I agree,' even if talking this through means admitting my feelings for him.

He finally looks me in the eye and my breath catches in my throat. We've both been through such an wide range of emotions in the last few minutes that it literally shows on his face: dark circles have formed under his eyes and he looks exhausted. Yet his eyes burn with a fire so alive it frightens me.

I wonder if anyone except me has ever witnessed the state Scorpius is in right now.

'I need time alone, Rose,' he says eventually.

'Why?' I suddenly panick. 'You said you wanted to talk!'

'I still do, but I have to… let things rest a little, you know? We'll see each other again when we're calmer, OK?'

I don't want to let him go, but I know he's right.

'OK.'

He relaxes his grip on my arm and before he leaves, bends a little and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

When he's gone, I stay where I am, with my back against the cold stone wall, my palm pressing against the burning spot his kiss left on my skin.

* * *

The next day in class people can't stop sending me bewildered looks. They ponder everything that happened to me the last two days: the Slytherin victory at Quidditch, my disappearing for twenty-four hours, my coming back to the Great Hall only to yell at Scorpius, and then my disappearing again, dragged along by the very boy I screamed at seconds ago, and finally the fact that no one saw me after that since I ran to my dormitory and went straight to class the next morning. It seems they all wonder how I can pull myself together so quickly.

Well, take this, everybody: a real Slytherin does not display her feelings for every loser to gossip about.

That's why you'll have nothing to talk about at lunch except the fact that you don't have anything to talk about.

On the inside though, I'm holding my breath, standing on my toes, being restless and anxious, waiting for Scorpius to let me know when he's ready to _talk_.

Once again I wonder how people actually survive this. I don't know who said waiting for something is even better than what you get in the end - but I beg to differ. When what you're waiting for is your best friend telling you he's not in love with you when you are, better get over with it as soon as possible, in my opinion.

Especially when the other boy, the one I should have feelings for, is waiting for me outside my last morning class.

_Brilliant_. At least now my classmates have something to gossip about.

'Hey Alejandro,' I say cheerlessly. I don't have the heart to fake joy, and I don't want to make things worse than they currently are by raising his hopes too high.

'_Hola_, Rose,' he greets me, his face serious too.

'You want to talk to me?'

'Yes, but can we go to a quieter place?'

'Sure,' I say, and I follow him to an empty classroom nearby.

He shuts the door behind him and I'm reminded of a very similar situation that happened last evening.

Only this time no sense of danger, no butterflies bursting in my stomach, no aching to kiss the boy standing in front of me.

I sigh.

If only I could feel at least something for Alejandro apart from mild interest and sympathy, my life would be so much easier.

'Rose,' he starts, rolling the 'r' of my name in his usual exotic, sexy way, 'can you explain to me what happened yesterday with Scorpius?'

I swallow, hoping he doesn't notice it.

And I decide to go for the truth.

'I was mad at him.'

Part of the truth, but still.

'I can tell,' Alejandro points out sharply.

'You know, he's my best friend, and I was really pissed that he didn't come to me first when you guys won the Quidditch match.'

'You have a weird way of being pissed.'

Merlin, couldn't he at least pretend to buy it?

'We have a very strong bond, Scorpius and I.'

'I've noticed. So where do I fit into this bond?'

Ouch. The question I dread so much I never even asked it to myself.

'I don't know exactly… this is rather new to me.'

'I need to know, Rose,' he insists. 'I can't be with you if I don't know what I am to you.'

'Alejandro…' I sigh, 'let's see where it goes, OK? We've only been on one date. Let's give it another week?'

He looks away thoughtfully, his beautiful dark eyes glinting with disappointement.

'Yes. I'll take you on a date next Saturday, OK? And then if you want us to stay together, will you be my partner for the Yule Ball?'

The Yule Ball I completely forgot about with all the events of the past months.

Since we were fourth years, Scorpius and I have always gone to the Ball together. Headmistress McGonagall had implemented the tradition shortly after the reopening of Hogwarts after the War – said its reminded her of the good times they had at Hogwarts before.

And I agreed with her – the Yule Ball was my favourite moment of the year along with the beginning of classes on September. Scorpius and I would dress up in our best clothes, drink too much Butterbear – and Firewhiskey the year after – and dance like idiots until the end of the night.

I guess the reason why I forgot about it is because this year, the Yule Ball will be miserable.

No Scorpius to dance around with, no Lana to counterbalance his loss – she'll be with her new boyfriend, no need to ask her to confirm – and a date with a beautiful boy I'm not in love with.

At least I'll have a date though.

Who knows who Scorpius is going to bring?

If he's at the Ball with _Skankavitch_, I may die of shame if I'm alone.

For this very selfish, bitchy reason, I accept Alejandro's invitation.

'Done, and done,' I say, and for the first time today I manage to fake enthusiasm.

Because, who knows? Maybe our date next Saturday will be so groundbreaking I'll change my mind about Alejandro and fall madly in love with him.

Tough chance, but still. A girl's got to hope, right?

'Brilliant,' he says, grining widely. 'I'll come and pick you up at the Slytherin Common Room at three?'

'Perfect.'

'See you,' he says, and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, in the exact same spot Scorpius did twelve hours ago.

Too bad for Alejandro his kiss doesn't burn me like Scorpius's.

* * *

I stick to Lana for the rest of the week. I'm emotionally too weak to try and fix things with my family at the moment. And somehow I need to be with someone who knows what's torturing me – who knows when I want to talk about it and when I want to be left in peace.

Spending time with Lana means spending time with Jake Jerrod as well.

I like to watch how they act around each other. Every gesture they have is gentle and loving and it soothes me. Sometimes I wonder how it would be if Scorpius and I were together – would he stroke my cheek lightly when he talks to me? Would he hold my hand all the time? Would his eyes sparkle when he looks at me?

I know wondering about those things is not a good idea.

I wait, I hardly speak all week, I just hang out with the epitome of love and although I sense the utter irony of it, it actually doesn't bother me at all.

I see Scorpius without really seeing him – we live in the same rooms, we go to the same classes, we eat at the same table, but we never meet each other's eyes.

It would make the waiting a million times harder otherwise.

On Friday morning, as owls sweep over our heads in the Great Hall at breakfast time, I spot Artemis in the pack of bigger, faster birds. She's batting her wings frantically, desperate to do as well as the big owls, and finally she almost crashes in my porridge, her little leg extended towards me with a roll of parchment attached to it.

I know it's a message from Scorpius before I even touch the parchment: no one else would go all the way to the Owlery and manage to make Artemis accept a letter for me if I'm not the one who asked. But my owl has always loved Scorpius – I guess there's something in the soft vibrations of his drawling voice that makes her comfortable and safe.

And as I untie the roll of parchment from Artemis's foot and Lana feeds her crumbs of toast, I realise I'm right and my waiting is finally over.

_'Meet me at the top of the Astronomy Tower tonight at midnight.'_

His writing is so characteristic he doesn't even need to sign the note.

I may have lost all the colour in my face because Lana gives me a worried glance.

'It's OK,' I tell her, my voice a little shaky, 'it's just a note from Scorpius.'

_Just_. A note from _Scorpius_. Way to sound casual.

Lana nods, as if to say : 'It's about time'.

I sit up a little clumsily. I feel giddy, overwhelmed by relief – he's finally ready – and panic – what does he have to say?

'When is it?' asks Lana.

'Midnight.'

'Where?'

'Astronomy Tower.'

'How cliché.'

'I know,' I chuckle. 'See, I didn't even think of being sarcastic about that. Something's definitely wrong.'

'Go fix it.'

Lana and I both snap our heads towards Jake Jerrod, the one who spoke the last sentence. He's looking at me kindly through his bifocals with a smile of genuine encouragment. Jake rarely speaks directly to me – he has far too many things to say to Lana for that – but it seems that after all he did listen to the few words I spoke this week. And he sympathises with me.

Nothing brings you together better than love – whether you're lucky at it or not.

So I put my hand on Jake's over the table and squeeze it thankfully. Then I turn to Lana who's visibly bright with happiness that I finally created somewhat of a bond with her love, and I give her a quick peck on the cheek.

'Thank you,' I whisper in her ear.

'Good luck, honey,' she whispers back.

And thus, with a little help from my friend and her boyfriend, I manage to walk the few steps out of the Great Hall straight and run to the Slytherin dungeon as soon as the door shuts behind me.

* * *

I stay in my room all day. It's called skipping classes, and I can see my mum's disapproving face everytime I close my eyes, but there's just no way I can sit through a whole day of classes in the state I am now.

At six in the evening, I eventually put a thick wollen green jumper on, take my school bag and my winter cloak and head to the Library.

Six is the time when people start coming back to their Common Rooms and I don't want to see anyone.

I sit in my usual spot in the Library and take _Crime and Punishment_ out of my bag. I finished reading it weeks ago but the angst and the questions the novel raised still linger in my mind.

Dostoievski's book and the events in my life have come to form a strange parallel. I haven't murdered anyone – although sometimes the urge to hex Nilkovitch's arse to oblivion almost overpowers me – but I certainly broke the one rule that shouldn't be broken. The rule that says you don't fall in love with your best friend. This is my crime somehow, and that unshakeable heartache is my punishment.

This is a thought I would have loved to share with Scorpius if he wasn't the one involved.

When the Library closes I snap out of my dazed state, and walk out quickly with my books and cloak. I pace a few corridors before finding a dark corner where I sit and curl up, waiting for midnight to come.

My heart has been racing so fast since the moment I got Scorpius's note I couldn't imagine it going faster. But as the minutes tick by, it does.

I just hope I'm not going to faint on my way up to the Astronomy Tower.

Because it is time now.

I make my way through the dark corridors, avoiding the prefects patrolling – after years and years of rule-breaking, I know their schedule better than they do – and finally start to climb the steep stairs that lead to the top of the Tower.

Fortunately the climbing is not easy and it blocks out the panic rising in my chest and the cold sweat running down my back.

Love is no piece of pudding, I'm telling you.

I walk the last step and here I am, standing on the top of the tallest tower of Hogwarts, the cold wind of the end of November making my cloak billow around my legs and my curly red hair messier than ever.

Scorpius is already there, hands on the stone rampart, slightly bent over it as if to observe the school grounds far below. His hair is just as messy as mine, shining in the moolight.

I walk closer, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor like bells.

I wish I could have a second longer to look at him before he turned, but he hears me and slowly turns his head towards me.

As much as I love him, as much as my heart aches at his sight, I still can't help but smile widely at him. It's almost like a reflex: being around him has always equalled being happy.

And even if it's not entirely the case anymore, somehow, it still is. Being around the one you love even if you're not sure he'll love you back is as close to happiness as you can get sometimes.

'Hey,' I say shyly, which is sort of a giveaway since I've never been the shy kind.

'Glad you came,' he smiles back, his voice steadier than mine.

I step next to him and lean on the rampart. The view from up here is breathtaking. All the lights in the castle are off and the star-dotted night sky shines like the surface of a lake under summer rain. As far as you can see, it's all forests and hills and lakes and mountains, except for the dim lights of the village of Hogsmeade.

It almost feels comfortable. Familiar. We used to come here all the time with Scorpius on spring days. We took a blanket with us, cuddled up against one another and watched the night skies for hours – until we fell asleep head against head, our backs resting on the stone ramparts. Scorpius had taugh me the names of all the constellations – the only one I clearly remember is the one he's been named after, _Scorpius_ – and although I used to tease him and call him a nerd, I was deeply fascinated. He was so eager to learn so many differents things, that reading the stars was like reading a book with him: spellbinding, exciting, always new.

Standing with him on top of the Astronomy Tower makes me reminisce about all these unique moments I had with him. It makes me want to be with him forever, more than ever.

Thus I hold my breath and ask:

'So?'

He half-turns his head towards me. His face is in the shadow but his eyes cast a look burning like fire.

Then he sighs and looks into the distance.

'Rose, you said things have changed, and I can't deny that.'

I swallow hard. I don't know what I wanted to hear exactly, but I know this conversation is going to hurt.

'Remember that night when you got drunk at Hugo's party and I brought you back to my room?'

'Yes.' _Vividely_, may I add.

'That night I realised. We're not children anymore, Rose. You're… more than a best friend, and our relationship is bound to evolve, since life won't keep us joined by the hip forever.'

'What do you mean?' I ask, and I hate the slight vibration of my voice that sounds like a warning for tears.

'Just look at what happened no later than a month ago: you met someone, I met someone, and things haven't been so great since then, right? And I understand why we reacted so strongly to the change, because it's always been the two of us, and even Lana and your family and the few other people we hang out sometimes were just _gravitating_ around us. And suddenly we have to share the other with a date? It's unsettling. But it doesn't have to be, at least not in the long run. Which means we have to learn to make space for others now.'

'_No_.'

Silence befalls us as it slowly dawns on me that the word escaped _my_ mouth.

And now I'm going to have to justify it.

Especially when Scorpius turns to stare at me, his face blank, his eyes unreadable, his demeanour expectant.

And somehow, I know it is too late to come up with pretences. Because if I don't speak up now, Scorpius may drift away from me forever. Now is the time to summon up the Gryffindor blood that's running in my veins and be brave.

'No, Scorpius. I don't want to make space for others,' I say bluntly, bravely. 'You and I… we're soulmates. We're inevitable. We're as indispensible as the air we breathe. How could you _live_ without me? I can't live without you!'

My words could as good as have slapped Scorpius in the face. His eyes widen like saucers and he gapes at me.

I'm staying still, collected. My stakes are too high right now for me to falter.

'Rose…' he eventually mumbles.

And then I make the boldest gesture of all.

I take his hand and put it on my hip.

I take his other hand and hold it in mine.

I put my other hand on his shoulder and start swaying at the rythm of a silent tune.

It feels exactly like when we danced at Hugo's party - only more frightening, because I don't even dare to breathe.

I look into his grey eyes and there's confusion, questions – and a glint of something else.

Something dangerous, something exciting, something extraordinary, a feeling I've only had in my oh, so many dreams of him.

He sighs and gives me his crooked little smirk that makes me fall in love with him over and over again.

'Rose,' he says, and his voice is softer and more confident than before.

'Scorpius, I…'

'Yes,' he nods, his eyes sparkling with a smile. 'You're a smart girl, Rose, and you know what's going on here, don't you?'

And then -

'You said you'd give us a chance, Rose! Is this giving us a chance?'

Scorpius and I freeze, because none of us spoke those words. This is the booming, furious voice of Alejandro Garcia, coming up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, Katrina Nilkovitch hot on his heels.

I've never seen him like this, his face red and sweating, contorted with humiliation and hate. Behind him, Nilkovitch sports a mean smirk, although her eyes glint furiously as well.

She's the one who brought Alejandro here, she's the one who ratted us out – we should have been more careful earlier today with Lana, but I was too shocked to notice that little bitch sitting just a few seats away from us.

'Same goes for you, Scorpius,' she spits maliciously.

Scorpius and I are still frozen in our silent dance step, and it takes time for me to process the fact that I won't have an answer to his last sentence and that I first have to take care of Alejandro and Nilkovitch.

But when I tear myself from Scorpius's arms – or is he the one who tears himself away from me? – and I make for the door, Alejandro throws me a dark, hurt look, turns on his heel and runs down the stairs and away from me.

I throw Scorpius a desperate look and he nods. I turn to face Nilkovitch who seem to shrink under my death glare.

Pulling my wand out of my pocket, I march towards her, hissing through gritted teeth:

'I swore I'd make you eat your cheap fishnet stockings, you little bitch, and here it comes.'

With a yelp she disappears into the dark staircase, and with a last glance at Scorpius that hopefully says '_This conversation is not over_', I follow the sound of her stiletto heels, ready to finally and legitimately hex her arse off.

And while I do so, the same words keep racing through my brain : _'You're a smart girl, Rose. You know what's going on.'_

Then why can't we just put words on it?


	9. don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch

_Hello!_

_It's been ages since I updated, I know. I had a couple pretty uninspirational weeks. But here is a new chapter, and I hope you'll forgive my previous lack of updates..._

_As usual, reviews are strongly appreciated!_

_A/N: unbetaed. Feel free to correct any grammar/_

_Disclaimer: not mine_

* * *

**Don't want to kiss, don't want to touch  
Just smoke my cigarette and hush**

**(Lady Gaga, _Alejandro_)**

Where was I?

Oh, yes.

Life's a mess.

I haven't spoken to my brother and cousins for a month even though we all live under the same roof and eat in the same Hall and go to the same classes.

I hurt Alejandro and I didn't have a comforting word for him.

I left Scorpius alone at the top of the Astronomy Tower with too many unanswered questions and the memory of an intense, intimate moment.

I tried to track down the world's biggest bitch ever – _a.k.a Katrina Nilkovitch_ – and after half an hour searching for her around dark corners and empty classrooms I had to reluctantly admit she knew the castle's shortcuts and hideouts better than I did. But it's probably just because I was so blinded by rage and frustration.

When I eventually got back to the Slytherin dungeons, no one was in the Common Room waiting for me – I hoped Nilkovitch would have been stupid enough to hide there – or, even better, that Scorpius would be waiting for me on the couch near the glowing hearth. But the Common Room was empty, as if nothing special had happened tonight.

I stayed there for a while, taken by the normalcy of the scene, incapable of moving forward and going to my bedroom.

I certainly didn't want this night to end up this way. But I guess most of all, I didn't want this night to _end_. Period.

After staring into space for what felt like hours, I snapped back to reality when the last reddish glow in the fireplace flickered and faded. Outside the window, the greyish light informed me the sun was about to rise. So I walked up to the dormitories, dropped my cloak and jumper on the floor near my bed and slipped into my bed with my jeans and Tshirt on. After that, I can't remember anything: I fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

'Rose, Rose! _Rose_, wake up!'

Once again, Lana's face is the first thing I see. Her big brown eyes are wide open and full of questions. So is my mind, and it takes me a few seconds to remember why.

'Rose, Alejandro's downstairs. He says he's waiting for you,' Lana explains as soon as my eyes are open.

And my jaw drops to the floor.

Because considering yesterday's events, the fact that Alejandro's waiting for me today means either: a) yesterday night was just a dream, or b) he's here to kick my arse for betraying him.

I really don't know which option I like best.

'Wha-at?' is all I manage to say.

'I know, right?' Lana exclaims, and I'm glad to see her _what-the-heck_ face because that's exactly how I feel too. 'What happened yesterday?'

'That, my dear, is a long story,' I mumble, sitting up in my bed, rubbing the back of my head. 'What time is it?'

'It's half past three in the afternoon.'

'Oh.' And then I remember. Our second official date with Alejandro is supposed to be today at three. Is it why he's waiting for me downstairs? How can he still think this is going to work?

'Fuck.'

'Exactly,' Lana chuckles. 'Now, when do you plan on telling me about your meeting with Scorpius?'

'Not right now, obviously,' I snort, getting up and rummaging in my trunk in order to find a clean Tshirt.

'Am I right to assume this rendez-vous with Alejandro has something to do with the events of yesterday?'

I stop to think about it. The fact that Alejandro is here after what happened yesterday is not insignificant. But what does that mean exactly?

'I don't know, Lana. I'll tell you after I talk to him.'

Finally a clean white Tshirt. I take my old one off and slip into the clean one. I'm still wearing the jeans I slept in but I don't care so much: I already feel like garbage – I feel like I slept three hours, I have a rather bad headache and only one clean Tshirt left – so it doesn't matter so much.

Lana eyes me with a pout of distate.

'Merlin. You really look like shit.'

'It's because I _feel_ like shit, sweetheart,' I say with a obvious fake sweet smile.

'As long as you don't have a problem with it,' Lana laughs.

'I would if it was Scorpius waiting for me downstairs,' I mumble under my breath, but the glint in Lana's eyes tells me she heard that.

But she doesn't comment on it.

'Good luck then,' she simply says.

I smile apologetically at her and start to walk down to the Common Room.

'And come back quickly so you tell me about yesterday !' she reminds me when my back is turned.

A fit of nervous laughter is my response.

* * *

Alejandro is indeed waiting for me in the Common Room. Fortunatelly only a few second years are hanging out there – not that they don't know what's going on. It seems everybody knows what's going on in Rose Weasley's life except Rose Weasley herself, of course – but it doesn't bother me as much as if they were people my age.

I walk up to them and just say 'Shoo!' and they jump on their feet and run away like frightened little rabbits.

I turn to Alejandro and scoff:

'To think these kids are _Slytherins_.'

Either Alejandro doesn't get my little joke or he doesn't find it funny, because his face remains as serious as if somebody had told him his favourite pet had died.

Which is something I don't know how to react to. Because usually, people always react to my sarcastic comments in one way or another.

So I stand in front of him, desperately searching for something to say to break the icy silence.

'Er… So you're here for our date?'

Yeah. I'd better shut up, shouldn't I?

'I am,' he says, with the same earnest face.

'But…'

'You wonder why I'm here because of what happened last night?' he asks me straightforwardly.

'Well…' I say, surprised, '…yeah!'

'It's because you have some explaining to do, Rose, and I want to hear it. If I wasn't here today, would you have even looked for me and explained?'

'Yes,' I pout my lips, a little annoyed because he's right to doubt my honesty… I would have probably hidden from him until this whole story was so far behind us he wouldn't remember it.

'Well, I just wanted to make sure of this,' he says, and finally he cracks me a smile – but it's a mirthless, bitter smile.

I sigh.

'Do you want to talk about it right here?' I retort, looking around us, 'because anyone can hear us and I'm not sure you'd like that.'

'I have nothing to hide,' he says, 'but maybe you have. We can go outside if you want. The weather is nice today.'

Ignoring his condescending tone, I lead the way out the Common Room.

He follows me and we walk side by side without a word until we reach the Entrance Hall and the Hogwarts grounds.

He was right. The weather is perfect. The sky is a cristal-light blue and the air is crisp and pure. If I didn't know this was late November, I wouldn't believe we were only a few weeks away from Christmas. The snow hasn't started falling yet, which is quite unusual so far up north.

We walk outside for a whole excruciatingly quiet minute, until I spot a bench at the edge of the Forest.

'Would you like to sit, maybe?' I ask casually.

He just nods and takes a little red paper box out of his cloak's inner pocket.

A pack of cigarettes.

Just what I need to let out the tension.

'Can I have one?' I ask without thinking.

He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, never losing his serious face. Then he opens the lid and hands me the pack.

'Smoking is bad for you, you know,' he tells me.

Despite the tension, I can't help but snort.

'Thanks for warning me, Saint Alejandro.'

He chuckles. Finally.

'Give it back,' he says, and I put the pack in his hand after pulling a cigarette out and holding the tip between my lips.

He does the same with his cigarette and I light his and mine with a flick of my wand.

We sit down on the bench and both take a deep puff. The grey smoke that escapes my mouth reminds me of the day when we walked together to Hogsmeade and the air was so cold our breaths came out in clouds.

'I didn't know you smoked,' he eventually points out.

'I guess I'm a rule-breaker to the core,' I shrug.

'Indeed.'

'I only smoke in cases of emergency though.' Then I decide to ask him: 'What do you want me to tell you Alejandro? You know this isn't going to work, don't you?'

'I know,' he answers simply. 'It doesn't mean I don't want to know _why_ it's not going to work, and why you had to lie to me by telling me we could give it a try.'

I take a big breath, stare at the cigarette I hold between my fingers.

'I'm sorry I told you we could give it a try. I guess I'm so lost I thought… I really thought this could work. That I could eventually fall in love with you. Because you're great and you're definitely someone I could fall in love with… if I wasn't already in love with someone else.'

His eyes widen slightly.

'What? Are you actually surprised?' I say, eyebrows raised.

'No… No, I'm not surprised because you told me you were in love with someone else… I'm surprised because I'm the first one to hear these news.'

I stare at him with my mouth open in shock.

He's right.

He is _so_ right.

It's so pathetic that he has to be the first one to hear me say the words 'I'm in love with'. Alejandro has nothing to do with what is going on between Scorpius and me. He shouldn't be the first one to hear this confession, _Scorpius_ should.

'In that case… I guess it answers both your questions, doesn't it?'

'Why can't you be honest with yourself, Rose?' he snaps, his voice bitter this time. 'Why does a sad little skank like Katrina Nilkovitch has to tell me what you couldn't? How much longer do you plan on hurting me, Scorpius, and even yourself?'

And all I can do is to hide my face behind my hands because I feel ashamed and helpless.

'I'm sorry Alejandro… ' I moan behind my hands. 'I'm so damn lost… I wish I knew what to do, how to act, I…'

'There's an easy way to act, Rose,' he says, 'you can just come clean. Tell him you love him.'

'He's my friend.'

'There's always a chance he'll love you back.'

'And a chance our relationship will break forever.'

'But that's a chance you have to take. Because, let's face it, Rose. Can you really live like this?'

I take my hands off my face and turn to stare at him.

'No,' I say, amazed I finally came to that statement.

'Would you rather live in this uncertainty, wondering if he may love you or not, or find out once and for all '

'I'm a _Slytherin_, Alejandro, I'm the master of eluding painful truths… you should know that.'

'I'm a Slytherin too, Rose, but how much longer can you avoid it, when it's been eating you alive? Weighting on all your relationships and not only the one you have with Scorpius?'

I remember my fight with my cousins – the way I treated Alejandro – the depressing company I've been to Lana lately. I remember I can't look Scorpius in the eye although he used to be the one person I never had a problem to be around.

'I hate when I'm not right,' I eventually mumble.

Alejandro lets out a little laugh.

'I know that too.'

I smile, shrugging.

'Thanks, Alejandro.'

'Don't thank me. I did with you what you have to do with Scorpius. I did it for me, not for you.'

'Thanks all the same. You're amazing. And I'm sorry I can't be with you… I'm sure you'll find a better girl, one that deserves you.'

He looks into the distance.

'Yeah… I don't really care. I liked you.'

I throw him a glance. I must look as pained as I feel, because he smiles and pats my arm.

'But don't worry too much about me. I'll be fine.'

'Yes, you'll be fine.'

He sits up and stubs out his cigarette on the ground.

'See you around, Rose,' he says, a little smile on his face, a melancolic glint in his velvety brown eyes.

'Bye, Alejandro.'

And I'm quite sure my expression mirrors his.

* * *

The sun has set for an hour when I walk back to the castle. The sting of the cold November air was supposed to clear my head but it just numbed out my unprotected ears and hands instead. Next time I feel like sitting on a bench on the grounds of Hogwarts on a winter day, I'd better make sure I take my gloves and hat with me.

I still feel terrible. My head is about to explode with all the questions and doubts and worries it is filled with there's a constant, nagging pain, somewhere between anxiety and depression, stabbing at my gut there's a lump in my throat threatening to burst into tears at the slightest upsetting event. My conversation with Alejandro made a tiny portion of guilt go away – at least now we've explained how we feel and he has no objective reason to hate me. But in fact, it doesn't solve the rest of the problem.

That's what I'm brooding on about when I turn the corner of the corridor leading to the Slytherin Dungeon. I'm so distracted by my own thoughts I almost scream when four dark silhouettes come out of the walk, blocking my way to the portrait hole.

'We've been waiting for you, Rose,' says a cold female voice that sounds strangely familiar.

I squint my eyes until I notice the sleek, bright red hair that cascades down her shoulders.

'Lily?'

I hear her voice and another one swear under their breaths.

'How do you know it's her?' Louis asks naively.

I can't help but laugh sarcastically at the ridiculous scene. Did my cousins really think they could scare an apology out of me so easily?

'_Please_. We're family. I could recognise your voices anywhere, anytime,' I snort dismissevely.

Lily straightens up a little, patting a crease on her otherwise perfectly ironed deep red school robes, and says:

'It's a good thing your finally came down here because we need to talk to you.'

I look haughtily at them, one by one. The only one that doesn't coil under my stare is Lily, proudest of all the Gryffindors. We stare at each other for a second before Hugo mumbles shyly:

'I'm sorry, Rose.'

I turn my head towards him in surprise. He fidgets nervously and eventually sticks his hands in his robe pockets.

'I'm sorry too, Rose,' Louis's voice is heard next to Hugo. 'I don't want you to get the feeling that we don't love you.'

'I should have stuck up to you that night,' Albus adds. 'I shouldn't have teamed up against you. I'm sorry.'

'And I'm sorry I implied you did what you did on purpose just because you're a Slytherin,' Lily concludes, and she's the only one that looks me in the eye while doing so. 'I shouldn't assume you've become a bitch since you got Sorted into that House…'

I look at her with one eybrow raised, waiting for the end of the sentence.

'… you've always been one for as long as I remember.'

I burst out laughing, swiftly walk the steps between me and her and hug her tight. She lets out a little squeak of surprise then hugs me back.

Around us, the three boys look at us with tearful smiles as if they were ready to applaud our performance.

'Lily… Rose… you finally made up!' Louis all but sobs.

'Oh, shut up,' Lily and I snap in unison, and then burst out laughing together again.

'So,' I finally say, wiping the tears of laughter and relief off my eyes, 'what did you guys want to tell me?'

'First of all, what we just said, that we're sorry,' Lily says.

'Then, that we all miss you,' Albus adds.

'And that it looks as if you're really upset about something these days,' Hugo adds.

_Shit_. Hugo was never one for intuition but this time I have to admit he's got it right.

'Does it have something to do with the fact that Scorpius and you never sit next to each other lately?' Lily asks, but her question sounds more like a statement. Of course she knows something's off between me and Scorpius. After me, Lily has always been the most intuitive, bitchy girl of the family – a wonder how she wasn't Sorted in Slytherin with her older cousin.

They all look at me, each of them wearing different expressions: Hugo's ingenuity, Louis's sympathy, Albus's curiosity and Lily's inquisitive stare get on my nerves and I end up snapping:

'Ok, OK! Yes, there's something going on with Scorpius.'

'I KNEW IT!' Lily points her finger at me in a theatrical gesture. The other ones sport smug smiles as if they'd known from the beginning too.

'Oh, come on!' I say, smiling a little in spite of me at Lily's act, 'even _I_ don't know what's going on… I just know things are a little weird… that's all!'

'What do you mean? How did it happen? You just don't grow apart from your best friend without a reason!' Albus says.

I know that. Thank you very much. But I'm not going to confess my love for Scorpius in front of my cousins and brother. Alejandro was right: Scorpius should have been the first one to hear it.

'I don't know, Albus,' I lie, making a rather good impression of a totally clueless girl, 'maybe we've changed over the holidays. People grow up and sometimes, they grow apart as well.'

'Wait,' Lily interrupts us, then strokes her chin thoughtfully. 'Do you think…' she stares at me now, waiting to see how I'm going to react to her conclusion, '… do you think he has _feelings_ for you?'

I knew this was coming.

Inside me the doubts and anxiety are back, but I decide it won't change anything if I voice them. Better play along and find out if Lily knows something I don't.

'I don't think so… what makes you think he is?'

'The way he looks at you,' Hugo says.

'The way he _doesn't_ look at you,' Lily says.

'The way he plays Quidditch when you're here to watch,' Albus says.

'The way he stopped being close to you,' Louis says.

I stare at them, amazed.

A tiny flicker of hope reappears, somewhere in the back of my mind.

The fight we had in the Hall a week ago, the conversation we had last night, the slow dance on the top of the Astronomy Tower.

What if they were right?

What if all I have to do is take a chance and ask him? Maybe he would say…

… that he loved me too?

'So, do you want to find out?' Lily finally asks.

'I have no idea. If he has feelings for me, things may be more complicated than I think.'

I look at them and they look back at me, just as clueless as I am.

'Right,' I snort. 'It seems no one has ever been in a twisted-up relationship before.'

That when Hugo speaks up.

'Well… none of us has… _yet_. But maybe you should write to Mum.'

'Oh, yeah,' I nod with my eyes wide open, obviously mocking him, 'because our Mum writes the agony column in Witch Weekly, of course!'

He stares at me, bewildered. See, the problem with Gryffindors is, they don't get sarcasm.

'Mum has an important job at the Ministry, Hugo, in case you haven't noticed, and she certainly doesn't have time for our little schoolchildren problems.'

'You're wrong,' Hugo snaps back, 'she does have time to read our letters and answer back. Just because you never write to her doesn't mean she wouldn't like it if you did!'

'I… I never thought about it this way.'

And I have to admit that once more, I am left speechless by my little brother, which, for an older sister, is not an ego booster.

'I think Hugo's right,' Albus adds. 'Aunt Hermione told us so much about how Uncle Ron was her best friend at Hogwarts before they started going out. They were _friends_, Rose, just like you and Scorpius are.'

Not exactly like us, I think. Nobody's like Scorpius and me. Anyway…

'I can write to Mum,' I say thoughtfully. 'Even if she can't give me friendship advice, at least it will make her happy to have news.'

'Glad you finally understood that,' Hugo grumbles, and I pretend I didn't hear what he just said, because it will only make me feel guilty – and thus get mad at my brother to take the guilt off my mind.

By the way they still stare at me expectantly, Lily, Hugo, Albus and Louis don't seem to want to leave the place. They probably hope I'll start asking them for help and advice and that we'll all hold hands and happily dance around until Scorpius comes out of the Slytherin Common Room and fall in love with me on the spot. Guess what, though. Slytherins don't do that. They don't dance around happily with their cousins (at least not in public places) and they don't fall in love on the spot (or if they do, they hide it pretty well).

So I just snap my fingers in front of them and say:

'My lovelies, it's been a pleasure but I have a long letter to write to Mum and things to sort out with my former best friend. So would you please go back to your Houses before curfew and leave me alone to solve my own problems?'

They all start as if this was the last reaction they expected from me. Then again, we've always been very different, my cousins and I. Doesn't mean I don't love them on some level. Well, on _every_ level. It just means I need more time alone than they usually do.

As they walk towards the stairs while mumbling goodbyes and see-you-soon's, Lily throws a last glance at me and says:

'You won't solve your problems on your own, dear cousin. And in case you ever need a sidekick, don't forget I'm here.'

I smile and nod to her before she disappears in the staircase.

I wouldn't have imagined making up with my family would be so painless.

It's good to have them back.

But tonight, I have a letter to write and long hours of telling yesterday's and today's events to Lana…

* * *

_"Dear Mum,_

_I'm sorry I don't write to you more often. I know you would like that, but you know how I am: always busy, always thinking about my books, my classes, my friends… And everytime your thought crosses my mind, I swear to myself I'll write and I end up never writing because there's always something seemingly more important to do._

_Now I realise, few things are actually more important that writing to my mother, and I hope this letter will make up for the previous lack thereof._

_Mum, I'm sorry that despite our many common interests we never managed to share much of them. I caught the reading bug thanks to you, for instance, and for that I'll never be thankful enough. My life would have been so different if it wasn't for this. I wouldn't have been the best of my year if I didn't love reading. I wouldn't have been Sorted in Slytherin if you hadn't made me curious for all books, even those which weren't advised for people my age. In a few words through books you taught me to be open and tolerant and to come to terms with who I am._

_Thus it's certainly thanks to you that I've become friends with Scorpius, and this, too, changed my life._

_You know how much he means to me, Mum. The thing is, we've been growing apart since we got back to school after this summer. It's as if we were just the same people, but an invisible barrier prevented us to act normal around each other anymore. Now every word, every gesture is forced and ridiculous and painful. I wish we could go back to the way we were before but it seems we'll never be able to be Rose and Scorpius again._

_I don't know why I'm writing you all this. You probably don't have a clue about what is going on and I can't blame you because I haven't either. But I figured, you're wiser, you know so much more than me, and Merlin, you're a great mum._

_Please feel free to answer my letter even if you have nothing to say on the aforementioned subject. I would love to hear from you._

_Lots of love,_

_Your daughter,_

_Rose."_

I read the letter one last time before I roll the parchement and tied it around Artemis's leg. The little owl is so excited to finally make itself useful it's literally trembling with emotion.

I stroke its tiny head with the tip of my fingers and murmur:

'You'll do well, sweetie, don't worry. Take your time, but don't leave my mum until she's given you an answer…'

Artemis perches on my forearm and I lead the bird to the big window of the Owlery where the owls take off. It flutters for a second, gives a little leap and off it flies. I watch it until it disappear in the rising sun over the Forbidden Forest, and I sigh.

If my mother can't give me useful tips about handling mixed feelings for a boy, at least it will make me feel better just knowing somewhere over the forests and the lakes and the mountains she holds a little piece of my life in her hands.

* * *

That evening, I feel an unresistible need to go find Scorpius. After all, I made peace with everyone – well, _almost_ everyone, but there's no way in hell I'll ever be nice to Katrina Nilkovitch even if she hadn't tried to steal Scorpius from me – and I want to see him too. After the way I left him yesterday night, I owe him an explanation.

And to be honest with myself, I wouldn't need all these excuses: I just want to spend time with him. The month before Christmas always makes me nostalgic and he's the only one who shares this state of mind with me.

And I can distinctly feel there's something off about this Sunday evening. It's not usual for me to sit by the fire in the common room _alone_ even while reading a book. I'm surrounded by third years playing chess and fourth year girls giggling in a corner while staring at a picture – probably Alejandro's, whose popularity rate must have jumped since we're officially broken up – but this is not _company_.

It's off because usually I'd be resting my head on Scorpius's shoulder while reading. I would share my thoughts about my book with him. We would laugh and talk and stare dreamily at the fire, oblivious of the other students.

That's why I must go and find him, even if it's just to make this lingering sadness go away.

I sit up and walk to the boys' dormitories staircase as discreetly as I can. Of course it's not discreet, not with about fifty eyes following my steps and twenty-five mouths ready to gossip their tongues out as soon as I'm out of earshot. But that's the inconvenient part of being Rose Weasley, badass Slytherin, and I've learnt to live with it. People will talk no matter what I do – so why bother?

In front of Scorpius's room, I stop for a second. What if he isn't in his room? What if he is? What if I am about to disturb him and he doesn't want to see me right now?

While all these questions race through my mind, my hand raises to the door and my knucles knock three times as if they were independent parts of me. Or stupider, who knows?

'Come in,' I hear Scorpius say behind the door.

My hand is only shaking oh, so slightly when it turns the brass handle and pushes the door open.

Scorpius is lying flat on his back on his bed, his head resting on the pillows, a book in his hands.

He sits up when he sees me. His face is solemn but he's smiling. I take it as a good sign.

'Hey,' I smile shyly. 'Sorry to disturb you.'

'No worries, Rose. You never disturb me.'

He slides down on the hardwood floor and sits with his back against his bed, then he gestures me to do the same. I hesitate, not wanting to look too eager nor too reluctant. But just like my hand moved on its own accord in front of Scorpius's door, my body naturally enjoins me to sit next to him. So I sit on the floor as well, only two inches away from him, and I swear I can feel the warmth of his body through my clothes and his. Or maybe I'm just so in love I'm starting to imagine things.

'Scorpius,' I start. 'You've always been so nice to me. No, wait,' I start speaking again when I see him ready to resist, '_nice_ doesn't even begin to cover it. Scorpius, you've always been the best friend I could dream of, and I owe you an apology.'

'What for?' he asks.

'Yeah... I have no idea why I should apologise for. It's just that… things have been weird between us lately. And I can't help but think it's my fault. A lot.'

He sighs, a strand of his beautiful blond hair falling in his eyes. I resist the urge of pushing it back and stroking his forehead.

'It's not all your fault, Rose. There are many things I did wrong too, and you were perfectly entitled to be furious at me. But you're my best friend, and everything is already forgiven, so don't be too harsch on yourself.'

'But yesterday night…' I go on.

He interrupts me by covering my hand with his.

'Yesterday night was necessary. We put too much distance between us these last few months. I had come to a point I had almost lost hope we would ever be close again. I'm glad we talked, I'm glad we danced… I'm just so happy to have found you back.'

At this point I pray he won't turn to look at me. I need time to swallow back the tears of emotion that threaten to spill from my eyes.

I don't know what to say. I'd like to tell him how wonderful it felt to dance with him, to share such a perfect moment with him yesterday. I'd like to tell him I wish every moment we had from now on would be like this one. I'd like to tell him the truth: that I'm desperately in love with him, that I can't be his friend anymore, that there's no need to go on if we're not going to be together.

But instead I don't say a word. Once again I keep my feelings buried inside my chest for fear I ruin everything and never see him again. Because no matter how painful it is, I know I'll never find the courage to completely cut him out of my life.

So I just lay my head on his shoulder.

He puts his arm around my shoulder and we stay like this, just like we used to be when everything was clear and easy and effortless.

I don't move until the din in my chest and head quiets down, until the thundering beating of my heart slows down.

I don't know what time it is anymore. It was already dark outside when I went up to Scorpius's room. Now it must be around eleven but none of us seems to care.

Eventually I hear Scorpius take a deep breath. Then he says:

'There's going to be a Yule Ball, you know.'

I hold my breath, not daring to move.

'I know. There's one every year.'

'And every year we go together.'

'You're a very perceptive man,' I smile.

He chuckles at my ironic tone. But immediately his face goes back to serious again.

'I… I wanted to ask you again this year, but since you're going with Alejandro…'

'Who told you I'm going with him?' I all but jump up at the news.

I see him hesitate, and I instantly know.

'Nilkovitch…' I growl through gritted teeth.

'She might have,' he says apologetically. 'Not that I take what she says for granted but… it seems likely.'

'I'm not going with Alejandro,' I say, laying my head back on his shoulder, hoping he'll put his arm back around my shoulders too. 'It wasn't very serious anyway.'

He keeps quiet for a moment.

'So…', he speaks up eventually. 'you don't have a date?'

'No.'

He puts his arm around my shoulders again. Finally.

I snuggle up against him and bury my face against his collarbone. The smell of his skin is so intoxicating I may lose control very soon if he squeezes me against him a little more.

'Would you…' he starts. 'Would you like to go with me?'

I take a deep breath, taking in the smell of him while doing so, my heart threatens to explode with joy, and I smile against his shoulder.

'Yes.'

Outside, the first snow finally starts to fall.

* * *

_So, what did you think? REVIEW please :)_


	10. accidentally you called me baby

_Hello everybody!_

_First of all, I wish you all a happy new year and all the best for 2011._

_I'm not going to give you lame excuses for not updating in like a month. There were a lot of things going on in my life, most of which preventing me from using a computer (true story)._

_Thanks for sticking to this story, especially **L'Etoile Noire** who reminded me I hadn't updated in a while... Here's chapter 10, which was supposed to be the last one, but which turned out to be much longer than I expected. The last chapter will be on line very soon!_

_Disclaimer: I doubt JK Rowling spent a month without writing Harry Potter, unlike me with this story. Ergo, I am not JKR and I don't own HP._

* * *

**One day accidentally  
You called me baby**

**(Lily Allen, **_**Who'd Have Known**_**)**

'I'm going to the Yule Ball with Scorpius.'

That's what I say to Lana on Monday morning while droping my heavy bag as casually as I can on the bench near our table.

Lana almost spits out her gulp of pumpkin juice and looks up at me with eyes wide as saucers.

'You _ARE_?'

'Well, he asked me, and I said yes, so I suppose it pretty much seals the deal,' I say with a cocky grin, as if Scorpius asking me to the Ball meant something else than the invitation of a friend to another friend.

Obviously Lana has her doubts too: she eyes me suspiciously until I sit down next to her.

'So?' she asks, one eyebrow raised.

I sigh and I give up.

'Yeah… You're right. He asked me just like he asked me the past years. As his best friend, that is all.'

Lana resumes her drinking her pumpkin juice.

'You don't know for sure, Rose.'

'I won't know until I ask, blah blah blah,' I say, a little annoyed that everybody keeps telling me the same thing.

'Well, there you go,' Lana answers in earnest. 'Don't come complaining if you don't even try.'

That ought to shut me up for a moment. I decide to take this time to ponder what she said and start eating breakfast.

Sunday ended much better than it had started, as I still vividly remember. Scorpius asked me to the Ball and just like that, the atmosphere became instantly more relaxed. We spent the rest of the night laughing, talking about books and watching the slow dance of the snowflakes out of the window of Scorpius's room.

When I went back to bed, it was probably three on the morning and all my roomates were sound asleep. Even Lana didn't flinch in her sleep when I opened the door, walked to my bed, undressed and slid under the sheets.

I don't know what Sunday evening meant. I just know I felt good, and I hadn't felt this good for what seems like forever – that is, since me and Scorpius started growing apart. Somehow, I deserve to feel this good a little longer after feeling so depressed for weeks. I'll enjoy my renewed friendship with Scorpius for as long as possible.

'Lana?'

'Mmh?' she mutters halfway through a mouthful of raisin scone.

'I'll talk to Scorpius about it during the Yule Ball. I think it's the most appropriate moment to do so. In the meantime, I'll just be friends with him, OK?'

She takes in my commanding tone and insisting glare and just nods.

'Whatever seems best to you, honey,' she just shrugs, 'I'll be there to support you, whatever decision you take… but just so you know, right now, I believe the best decision you could take is to tell him the truth – one day or another.'

She stares at me with her beautiful big brown eyes until I nod.

I'm lucky to have Lana as a friend – because it's just really lucky to have a friend who has the guts to tell you the truth, whether you like to hear it or not.

In these early days of December, just like every other year, the only topic of conversation at Hogwarts is the Yule Ball. By this time of the year I used to feel excited because the Ball was coming up – which meant Hogwarts would turn into a huge ballroom full of possibilities and adventures for one night – and because the Christmas holidays were just a few days away – which meant I would go back to my family and also spend a few days at Scorpius's manor.

Only this year the Yule Ball scares the hell out of me. I gave my word to Lana that I would let Scorpius know about my feelings then – I gave my word to pretty much everybody, including Alejandro Garcia and my family – and I can't back out of this one. And somehow, I don't want to either. I realise it is time to take responsibility for the feelings that have made me so miserable these past few months and stop whining about them. And also, somewhere deep down, I guess I'm curious about what Scorpius will say. Maybe it's because Alejandro, my brother, my cousins and Lana planted all this hope in my heart, but there's always a possibility that he'll respond to my feelings, say he loves me too, and kiss me senseless with his gorgeous lips of his…

'Rose, potion-making time!'

Scorpius nudges me in the ribs and I snap out of my daydream.

It's dangerous to dream about his lips when he's sitting right next to me in Potions class. When he's around I'm always afraid something might slip and I'll accidentally kiss him or throw myself at him and start unbuttoning his crisp, white, sexy shirt…

'Rose?' he waves his hand in front of my face, looking a little worried about my hearing or my sanity.

'Yes!' I almost start. 'Yes, sure, let's start with the potion!'

'Do you even know which potion we're supposed to brew?' he asks, half suspicious, half amused.

'Amortensia?' I venture.

'You wish,' he snorts, and yeah, I wish it was, because Amortensia would, at least momentarily, solve my issues, 'it's Placebodonia, the universal curing potion.'

'Do you imply it's hard to brew?'

'Kind of…'

'Well, we're seventh years, that's what we're supposed to learn, right?' I start skimming through the pages of my Potions book. The challenge of brewing an impossibly difficult potion has completely waken me up. 'So stop acting like it's so difficult and pass me the ingredients.'

'Alright, Master,' he bows playfully. 'After all, you've always been the best of us at Potions.'

'The only subject you outdo me at is Quidditch, so yes, I outdo you at Potions, and at almost everything else.'

'That's why I love you,' he winks.

My heart freezes in my chest. The love he talks about is the love we've had for each other since we were eleven. And let's face it: boys don't like competitive girls who outshine them in class. _Ergo_, Scorpius doesn't love me the way I love him.

I swallow back the hard knot that just formed in my throat and start throwing Carpathos beans into the cauldron.

As you see, Scorpius and I are friends again. I can't say it makes me _completely_ happy – only one thing would make me completely happy, and the thought of making it happen paralyses me. But at least we talk to each other, we laugh together, we spend time reading and playing chess and walking around the snowy grounds of Hogwarts and for the moment, it's more than I could wish for. A few weeks ago I thought the things we're doing these days were over – now I know they'll be over soon, but at least I can fully enjoy them one last time.

As we walk back to the castle in the setting sun, I throw fond sideways glances at Scorpius. I admire his aristocratic features, the pure, untainted joy that lights up his sad eyes when I make a joke, his beautiful blond hair that turns red in the afternoon light, and I know – I just _know_ all the pain is worth it because he's irrevocably, unmistakably the one for me.

The countdown has begun, and there's no avoiding it.

One week before the Ball and the tension is palpable in the Great Hall when Lana and I arrive for Saturday morning brunch.

As soon as I appear at the Slytherin table my cousin Lily gets up from the Gryffindor table and rushes up to me, waving her hands excitedly - and a little ridiculously, I must say.

'Oh my God !' she screams when she's within hearing distance – that is, thanks to her shrill, loud girly voice, thirty metres away.

'What's up, Lil'?' I ask casually, one eyebrow raised.

'The Ball is a week away!' she jumps around me like an ecstatic little bunny.

'I know that. Why so happy?'

'You're going with Scorpius, aren't you?'

'How do you know?'

'_Everybody_ knows, my sweet, oblivious cousin,' Lily pats me on the shoulder, 'you're Rose Weasley and he's Scorpius Malfoy.'

'Of course,' I roll my eyes. Of course everybody knows. Didn't I already mention that? Don't I experience it every single day? Sometimes I feel people know more about my life than I do. It doesn't bother me too much though, since it saves me the trouble of having to tell my friends about it, as they generally already know what's going on with me before I open my mouth.

'I guess I am going to the Ball with Scorpius then,' I shrug.

'That is brilliant!' Lily exclaims, and for the first time I have to shush her – there's no need to attract Scorpius's attention.

'No, really, Rose, it must mean something!'

'I go to the Ball with him every single year, honey, why would it mean something more than last year?'

'I just know,' Lily lifts up her chin, smiling smugly.

'Rose is going to ask him about, you know, his feelings and stuff,' Lana interferes.

'Lana!' I say, a little offended.

'What? Aren't you?'

'Yes, I am, and please, go on and make a public announcement while you're at it!'

'Oh, come one, I'm your cousin, Rose, I would have found out anyway.' Lily states wisely. 'Did you get an answer from Aunt Hermione by the way?'

'No.'

I didn't get a letter from my mum and it worries me. I don't know if she's mad at me for not writing more often, or if she's at a loss what to advise me to do. And honestly I don't know which explaination I like best.

'Maybe you will get a letter. The post has been really slow this winter. Don't worry about it.'

'It's OK, Lily. Thanks for stopping by anyway.'

As Lily leaves us, Lana and I share a meaningful look: who would have thought, last year at the same date, that so many things would be at stake with the Yule Ball?

On Tuesday evening after our Defense Against the Dark Arts class, I hear someone calling me from behind me in the corridor. I thought I was the last one to leave the class: I had a few more notes to take and I didn't want to pack my things before I wrote them down for fear I would forget about them. So I'm all the more surprised when I turn around and see Scorpius walking up to me.

'Hey,' he says, his irresistible smirk back on his lips, his blond hair falling in his eye – just his usual, attractive self.

'Hey,' I manage to smile back eve though I can't help but feeling dazed. It's amazing how I've known him for years and he still has this incredible impact on me. I push a strand of red hair behind my hear and ask him casually:

'What's the matter?'

'I was just wondering… what are you going to wear next Saturday?'

I freeze on the spot.

'That's quite an unexpected question.'

'It's just because… every year we go to the Ball wearing plain jeans and sweaters, and I figured, this is our last Yule Ball at Hogwarts, _ever_, so what do you think we dress up a little?'

The very idea is funny and embarassing. Funny because I'd never thought the day would come when Scorpius would say he'd like to wear a tuxedo and see me wear a couture dress. For his defense, Scorpius could wear anything and still be breathtakingly handsome – even covered in rags he'd look like a blue-blood prince. The same doesn't go for me, but I never paid too much attention to my appearance – until I fell in love with him.

And it's embarassing because I don't _own_ a fancy dress, and it's Tuesday night, and I'll never manage to get one by Saturday, even if I order it through _Witch Weekly_. But what choice do I have? Scorpius is right – it _is_ our last Ball at Hogwarts, and we owe our beloved school a nice outfit for the occasion.

'That's a brilliant idea, Scorp!' I smile, and _I'll figure out who I'm going to extort a a party dress from later_, I think.

'Perfect,' he flashes his bright smile at me. 'I really can't wait, Rose.'

And then the oddest thing happens: he seems to hesitate, then – he walks one step closer to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and plants a light kiss on my cheek.

'See you later,' he mumbles, straightening up awkwardly and avoiding my eye in such an obvious way I can't help but smile at him smugly. Blushing slightly, he briskly walks away, leaving me dumbstruck, perplexed – and ridiculously happy with this tiny victory.

It's Friday morning and I still haven't found a dress – the only one I have in my trunk is a knitted grey dress, which I love, but which isn't very official-looking, and I'm pretty sure it's not what Scorpius has in mind. Lana ordered hers weeks ago and got it last week – _thanks a lot for the tip, Lana, couldn't you tell me about it before I made a fool of myself on Saturday?_ – and Lily has _six_ fancy dresses, none of each fits me, considering she's two sizes smaller than me, that beautiful, arrogantly thin bitch.

In such circumstances I always regret I don't have more girlfriends. I've spent too much time with Scorpius since I came to Hogwarts and – _fortunately_ – he doesn't have a dress to lend me.

I'm waiting for Lana at the Slytherin table, my gaze lingering on all the delicious food the Hogwarts house-elves serve for Friday's breakfast as a preview to Saturday's brunch – although I can't eat any since I've lost my appetite to fashion issues – when the post owls swoop over our heads in the Great Hall. Many of them carry pretty red and gold enveloppes, probably containing Christmas wishes from the students' families. But among the normal-acting owls, a strange scene catches my eye: a large, brown owl, one of those you can rent at wizarding post offices to carry big or heavy parcels, flies over the Slytherin table while being attacked by a ferocious, squeeky, minute silver owl. Wait… I _know_ that owl.

I jump on my feet.

'Artemis!'

The tiny silver owl turns its head towards me and lets out a cry of helplessness. It swoops down to me and perches on my shoulder, hooting excitedly as if to explain to me why it isn't carrying the parcel.

I burst out laughing and stroke its head reassuringly.

'Calm down, sweetheart, you couldn't have carried that weight anyway! But thanks for keeping an eye on your owner's interests.'

The big brown owl lands on the table and hoots in a dignified way to catch my attention. I sign the receipt on the parcel, undo the ties that keep it attached to the owl's leg and take the box in my arms.

The owl bows slightly and then takes off, its mission accomplished.

I check the handwriting on the parcel: that neat, straight writing is unmistakably my mum's.

And I can't help but feel my heart swell with joy and love as I rush back to the Slytherin dormitories to open my mum's parcel in privacy.

When I'm in my room I hear Lana's voice coming out of the bathroom door:

'Rose, is that you?'

'Yes it's me!' I all but sing back. 'I got a letter and a parcel from my mum!'

'Oooh, brilliant! You'll let me know what she says, ok? I'm getting out of the shower.'

'Take your time, honey!'

As much as I love Lana, I want to be alone just for five minutes – just for me to read my mum's letter without someone breathing down my neck while doing so.

I open the parcel: it's a cardboard box with an white parchment enveloppe on the top. I take the enveloppe and tear it open: a piece of parchment covered in the same, beautiful handwriting comes out of it.

I unfold it and start reading.

_"My dear Rose,_

_Don't worry about not writing so much. I've been to Hogwarts, and I know there are few other places __in the world __as exciting as this school. The fact that you just think about me is enough, and if sometimes you find the time and patience to write me a quick note, then, nothing can make me happier. So, what can I say? It's your last year: have fun, experience everything there is to experience at Hogwarts, read, learn, enjoy it as much as you can. These are priceless memories you'll carry with you all your life – and it's completely understandable that you don't have much time to stop and think about your old parents in the meantime!_

_As for Scorpius now, you're right, I don't have much advice to give you. We never talked much about him together, but there was no need to: I've seen how happy you are since you've met him. I've known you since the day you were born, my dear daughter, and you've always been like a flower blossom, waiting for something or someone to bloom for. Scorpius had that effect on you: he didn't make you who you are, but he helped you become who you are: a beautiful, brilliant, intelligent young woman._

_It's hard to be seventeen. I know that. It was hard for me too, and my best friend wasn't someone as mature and smart as Scorpius: it was your dad, Ronald Weasley, and fortunately he grew up a lot since then, but when we were at Hogwarts we certainly fought and bickered a lot – I can't count the times when we stopped talking to each other and when I thought our friendship was over. But in the end, even if we didn't know it then, all this was just a way to say: _I can't believe I'm falling in love with my best friend_. And yet we eventually came to terms with our feelings._

_I hope Scorpius and you will find a way to make up. He's good for you, Rose, and I can't wish you anything better than a friend like him. Again, if it doesn't work out, it won't be the end of the world either. But give it a try, you never know. Be honest and open, with him and with yourself, and let me know how it turns out._

_Looking forward to seeing you at Christmas._

_Lots of love,_

_Your mum,_

_Hermione_

_PS: your dad says hello. Don't worry, I haven't told him anything about Scorpius. He knows he's your best friend, but he'd rather ignore this fact most of the time. Did I mention how much he grew up since Hogwarts?"_

I read the letter three times before Lana comes out of the bathroom, an emerald green towel wrapped around her.

'What is the letter about?' she asks, obviously curious.

'I'm not sure…' I say, stroking my chin. 'Here, read it, tell me what you think.'

Lana takes the piece of parchment and reads.

'Well, first of all, may I say your mum has quite a sense of humour,' she smiles knowingly when she's done.

'Sure, sure, what about the rest of the letter?'

'Well, she makes a parallel between you and Scorpius and herself and your dad, doesn't she?'

'So?'

'So she probably thinks you'll end up getting married and having lots of babies! Oooh, I'm sure they'll be strawberry blond, a mix between your red hair and his blond hair!' shes grins excitedly.

'Stop it, Lana!' I sit up, half annoyed, half amused, and I try to get my letter back from her as she stands up on my bed and keeps reading.

'And I'm quite sure that if you read between the lines, she suggests I should be godmother for your and Scorpius's first born!'

'Lana! Give it back!' I now laugh with her.

'Seriously! she means you should go for it, Rose! Go talk to him! _'Be honest and open'_, isn't these her very words? She compares your relationship with the one she had with your dad, she says things worsened between them when they started developing feelings, and that in the end they managed to make it work!'

I stop jumping around her on the bed and stare at her with my mouth gaping.

'What?' Lana stops jumping too. 'You sure look stupid like this.'

'Lana… my mum suggests Scorpius and I could be developing the same feelings right now!'

'Yes!'

'_YES_!'

And we start jumping on the bed again, giggling and occasionnally hugging each other.

'Rose,' Lana interrupts our display of joy.

'You're right, we're Slytherin girls, and Slytherin girls don't giggle around,' I say.

'No, stupid! Look, you haven't opened the box!' she says pointing at the cardboard box that came with the letter.

We both kneel down on the bed and I tear open the top of the box.

Inside layers and layers of folded black silk paper lies a beautiful, shiny silk deep green dress.

Eyes wide open with surprise, I carefully take the dress out of its box and stand up on the bed, showing it to Lana. We exchange a meaningful look and I'm too moved to speak. She gets up too and takes me by the hand, then leads me in front of the big lifesize mirror that stands in the corner of our room.

'I think you should try it,' she says under her breath as if she was afraid to break the respectful silence that has settled in the room.

'We're going to be late for class,' I whisper back, unable to take my eyes off of the reflection of me holding the dress.

'Who cares?' Lana rolls her eyes. 'Such an occasion _demands_ skipping classes, doesn't it?'

'Alright,' I approve easily. 'Help me put it on.'

I take off my school uniform while Lana looks for the zipper of the dress. When I'm only wearing my bra and panties, she helps me with the dress. Lost in the folds of velvety fabric, I finally manage to find my way out of the dress, at which point the dress hugs every curve of my upper body perfectly while Lana pats the folds of the dress to make the last wrinkles disappear. Then we both take in my reflection in the mirror.

The curly fiery red mess that is my hair spectacularly emphasizes the minimalistic beauty of the dress. While the upper part of the dress is tight and almost severe-looking – there's a round collar that barely shows my collarbone and two round holes for the arms – the lower part of the dress hugs the top of my hips before cascading down to my knees in dozens of tulip-shaped folds of fabric. The deep green shade of the dress, a subtle reminder of my House colour, highlights my pale, freckled skin. All in all, the dress is both formal and sexy, elegant and slightly provocative. In a nutshell: the perfect dress to go to your school's Yule Ball when you're a seventeen-year-old girl and you want to impress the boy you're in love with.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Lana says under her breath, obviously impressed:

'It's almost as if she knew…'

'Oh, she _knows_,' I answer in the same tone. 'She's the smartest person alive.'

'Yeah, and she picked just the right dress for you,' she throws me a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised mischievously, 'look how much bigger your breasts look! It's a Christmas miracle!'

I playfully punch her on the shoulder.

'You're just saying that because my dress looks better than yours!'

'Oh, I'm not denying it,' Lana laughs, 'but it's OK, I've already seduced my boyfriend, I could go to the Ball with sweat pants and it'd still be OK.'

'Don't make me chase you around the room with that beauty on,' I laugh with her. 'Help me take it off now, and then we'll plan our hair and make-up for tomorrow.'

'Rose, I'd have never thought I would hear you say this kind of sentence one day.'

'Me neither, but this is a case of emergency,' I say pointing at my bushy hair. 'Now come on, partner in ditching classes!'

And this is how Lana and I spend the rest of our Friday.

Have you ever noticed how time seems to expand or shrink according to the situation? Take a History of Magic class with Professor Bins, for instance: it only lasts one hour, but it feels like ten centuries – and not just because it's the age of the ghost that teaches it. On the other hand, take the twenty-four hours before the Yule Ball: time seems to fly, and before you know it, it's already Saturday morning, you're eating brunch at the Slytherin table with Lana and you're absolutely not ready for dancing in a fancy dress.

Or for asking Scorpius Malfoy out, for this matter.

Speaking of Scorpius, I haven't seen him yet this morning. Probably that, unlike me, he's not stressed out about the Ball at all and he uses Saturday morning to sleep in – personally, today, I wouldn't be able to sleep in if you paid me for it.

But Lana gives me a nudge and draws my attention back to the Great Hall, just when Alejandro Garcia walks in in all his brown-haired, black-eyed, tall and muscular glory. There's a perceptible movement in the Hall when all the female student population of the school turn their heads to see him walk down the Slytherin table and sit down next to a fifth-year girl whose name I don't know.

'It's Emilie Duchateau,' Lana whispers from the corner of her mouth.

I check the girl out carefully. She's a thin, pale girl with brown curls and chestnut eyes, and she seems to glow with pride that Alejandro Garcia chose to sit next to her.

'Do you know her?' I whisper back to Lana.

'Not really. She's half-French, half-British, but I think she spent a few years in Mexico, so maybe that's why Alejandro knows her.'

I stare at the pair of them for a while before tearing my gaze away from them. It's not that I'm jealous or disappointed. It's just that I wish my story with Scorpius could be just as simple as sitting next to each other at the Slytherin table and being happy about it.

The thought crosses my mind but I don't let it linger on for too long. I've finished my breakfast and I sit up.

'You're going back downstairs?' Lana asks, downing a forkful of scrambled eggs.

'Yes… I can't eat much anyway. Lost my appetite,' I shrug.

'OK…' she says doubtfully. 'I'll be back soon.'

'Don't worry about me, I have a lot of work to do, curls to straighten and stuff… Take your time!' I tell her before leaving the Hall quickly.

I didn't mean to leave Lana alone after all the support she gave me but I just need to be away from the noise and the rumours and the babbling crowd of students for a while. Just a few minutes, just for me to concentrate on the huge step I'm about to take – the one that will change the most important component of my life.

The most important component of my life which I run into in the corridor leading to the Slytherin Common Room.

'Scorpius!' I can't help but cry out when I see him, looking as good as usual although I notice the slightly dark circles under his eyes.

'Hey, Rose,' he gives me a forced smile. 'Didn't expect to meet you here! Are you already done with brunch?'

'Yes,' I answer him, still smiling, though I can barely control the suspicious tone my voice has taken. It's very unusual for him to act like this: he looks like a person who's just woken up from a nightmare, or rather who hasn't slept at all. I've known Scorpius for seven years and I almost never saw him look so tired and disoriented – except the times when he was really depressed.

'Too bad, I was hoping for some company.'

'Lana's still downstairs, you know,' I tell him, 'though you'll probably have to put up with Jake Jerrod as well now I've left her alone.'

He doesn't answer anything and keeps staring at me as if lost in thought. Which is quite upsettling since his staring makes me heart beat even faster and louder than it usually does when he's around.

'Scorpius?' I venture eventually.

'Yes, sorry!' he shakes his head. 'I'll see you later for the Ball then.'

And as I resume my walking to the Slytherin dungeon, he stops and puts his hand on my shoulder. I feel a shiver run down my spine and slowly turn to look at him. His face is serious, his eyes darker than usual, and in the dim light of the corridor he looks dangerous and madly attractive, like in dreams I've had with him in them.

'I can't wait,' he whispers, and then lets go of me.

And slightly dazed, I keep walking, wondering why suddenly everything in my life seem to take such an unexpected turn.

* * *

_I'll try to update soon (next chapter will be the last one). Leave a review, you know how important they are!_ xx


	11. suppose i never ever met you

_Hello!_

_Final chapter... Hope you like it!_

_A little word for my reviewers: some of you asked me for music suggestions while reading this story. Let's say the quotes I used for the titles come from songs that inspired me to write this story. But most of it comes from a song I dind't quote here: it's Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga, and it's the song that actually made me want to write a story about desperate love. But you can also listen to Cocorosie, Regina Spektor, Lily Allen, songs that are great no matter what meaning you choose to give them._

_Leave a review with your thoughts, comments, ideas for another story if you want... I'd love to hear from you!  
_

_Disclaimer: oh, so not mine._

* * *

**Suppose I never, ever met you  
Suppose we never fell in love**

**(Regina Spektor, _Fidelity_)  
**

Somehow I find myself on Saturday evening wearing my mum's deep green cocktail dress, the right tights and shoes, the right make-up and lipstick – and with my curls straightened as much as humanly and magically possible.

I guess I have to thank Lana for all this because for my part, I am utterly incapable of putting one foot in front of the other tonight, let alone apply a straight line of eyeliner on my eyelids.

And to tell you the truth, I can barely recognize myself these last few days. Where did self-confident, intelligent, proud Rose go? I think that girl lost her swagger when Scorpius asked her to the Ball.

'Come on, brace yourself – pretend it's just going to be like last year's Ball,' a little voice whispers in my hear.

No, wait – it's Lana. Lana who helped me out with getting ready all afternoon, Lana who is now wearing a stunning purple strapless gown, her hair cascading in loose waves down her back, her eyes expanded to twice their size by mascara and eyeliner.

'Lana… you look beautiful,' I say, literally gaping at her.

'Thanks,' she smiles knowingly. 'You don't look bad yourself.'

'If I do look bad, you're the only one to blame, because I really don't have anything to do with the result.'

She puts her hands on my shoulders and locks eyes with me.

'Rose, you look beautiful. Now, be _yourself_ tonight: be confident and sarcastic, be shiny and happy. Be the Rose both Scorpius and I love, and maybe he'll get to love you a little differently than he already does…'

I lower my gaze and sigh. Tonight's the night I'm going to try and make him see the other Rose, the one that is in love with him. It's all or nothing, and then – I'll finally have the answer.

'Let's go now,' Lana pushes me gently to the staircase. 'Our dates are waiting for us.'

As we walk down the stairs to the Common Room, I see that the Room is already crowded with people, all dressed up and excited about the coming Ball. But my eyes don't linger on the eager faces and sophisticated hairdoes, and they immediately scan the Room for Scorpius. Behind me, I can feel Lana doing the same to locate Jake, who's come all the way from the Ravenclaw Tower to pick her up.

And then I see him when he turns his head to look at me. Everthing happens as if in slow motion – and I swear, if my heart wasn't beating so fast, I would think I'm sitting in a cinema watching a film.

He's wearing deep green dress robes lined with silver, just like most of the boys around him – only _he_ looks like a model in them and all the other boys look like they're wearing their mums' dressing gowns. He's made visible efforts to tame his unruly, dirty-blond hair – and my heart gives a fond leap at the thought that maybe – just maybe – he's done this for me.

As a big grin expands on my face, I rush down the stairs and throw myself in his arms, a reaction I've had hundreds of times before, and he hugs me, and we laugh together like we used to. When I eventually let go of him and he lets go of me, I turn and see Lana looking at us with a knowing smile.

The moment before Hugo's Halloween party a few months ago flashes in my head. Remember what happened during that fateful night? It had started like this one, and it had ended with me falling in love with Scorpius.

I can't help but feel this could be a good sign.

Lana and Jake have found each other too and they stand next to us holding hands.

'Hello, Scorpius,' Lana says, her piercing eyes obviously trying to read Scorpius's mind.

'Hello, Lana. Hi, Jake,' Scorpius answers smiling politely, and of course he doesn't let anything slip in front of the happy couple.

'Let's go upstairs then,' Lana says, and with a frustrated shrug she leads the way out of the Common Room, Jake Jerrod following her.

Scorpius and I exchange a glance.

'Indeed, I don't see why everybody lingers here,' he says.

'… when there's champagne waiting for us in the Great Hall,' I add.

'Warm champagne isn't good,' Scorpius raises an eyebrow.

I burst out laughing.

'Come on, Scorp, let's go get drunk!'

He laughs as well and takes my hand. His palm is warm and soft and almost covers my hand when it holds it, making me feel both tiny and safe.

And we leave the Slytherin Common Room together for our last Yule Ball at Hogwarts.

* * *

The Great Hall is more magnificent than ever, all decorated for Christmas. The space is illuminated by thousands and thousands of candles floating from the Enchanted Ceiling to the tables, and the walls are covered in red, green, gold and silver lights and decorations.

The Great Hall looks like this every year for the Yule Ball. But this year it seems even more impressive, maybe because it's the last time we'll see it like this. My heart gives a little twinge of nostalgia at the thought: it's my last year at Hogwarts, and I only seem to realise that now.

The thought stirs new emotions in me and I involuntarily squeeze Scorpius's hand. He responds by giving my fingers a light pressure, which meaning is something between _it's going to be alright_ and _I feel the same way too_. It reassures me that we can still be this connected, that we can still share this subtle melancholy at the thought of our years at Hogwarts. It feels like an oath of friendship, and it touches me more than ever.

The Tables are ready for the Yule Ball feast, set according to our years and not according to our Houses. Every year, just for the Yule Ball, we're supposed to forget about Houses rivalries and share a dinner and a party with the people of our year, no matter whether they are Slytherins, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. This was McGonagall's idea when the school reopened after the War. She once said in a speech that she believed the very existence of different Houses at Hogwarts was the root of everything that happened back then. But she also said people were so attached to their Houses, they wouldn't understand if this tradition was thrown away and their children wouldn't get to be in the same Houses as their parents (well, see how this turned out for me – the fact that I was Sorted in Slytherin almost cut me out of my family – it would never have happened if there weren't Houses to be Sorted in in the first place). First, second and third-years are not allowed to participate in the Ball, so there are only four tables, the same as usual.

That is why Scorpius and I walk to the seventh year table, the one that stands in the middle of the Hall. I'm too focused on Scorpius to pay much attention to my surroundings, but I can literally feel hundreds of eyes following us, and it unnerves me even more.

We find two free sits at the table and I sit down nervously next to Scorpius. He gives me a lopsided little smile, and I know it's supposed to comfort me, but I can barely feel my legs right now, and the vision of his stunning beauty doesn't help me at all.

That's when I notice who's sitting next to us.

Opposite Scorpius and I are Lana and Jake Jerrod, and it makes me feel better to have them near in such a stressful moment. Next to me sits Alejandro Garcia, and his face falls slightly when he sees me with Scorpius, and I can't help but throw him an apologetic glance before his date, Emilie Duchateau, puts her hand on his forearm and brings him back to their conversation.

And next to Jake Jerrod is – _Katrina Nilkovitch_.

My whole body freezes as I feel mad hatred erupt in my stomach. There she is, that bitch who has evaded me for weeks now. Tonight she dares show up and sit so close to me and Scorpius.

Lana and I exchange a quick glance, which meaning is unmistakably: _if Nilkovitch dares so much as bat her lashes for Scorpius, we'll both hex her arse off faster than she needs to put on that cheap fishnet stockings on._

Scorpius, on the other hand, frowns a little when he sees her, but otherwise doesn't display the slightest emotion. Whether he'd like to hex her too or not doesn't show on his face at all. I wish I could be as under control as he is. It would look far more dignified than the current look on my face, distorted by boiling anger.

Dinner appears in the golden plates and everybody starts taking food and eat it. I know I won't be able to eat anything with Nilkovitch's ugly face so close to me, so I throw a Veil Charm in her direction just so as to spare me the vision of her while I eat.

Scorpius notices and asks nonchalantly, leaning towards me:

'What was _that_ for?'

'I need to look only at nice things when I eat, especially when the food is this delicious.'

'I agree,' he says, digging his way through the small mountain of mashed potatoes sitting in his plate.

After the feast, McGonagall sits up at the Professors table.

The Great Hall falls silent almost instantly.

'Dear students,' she starts her speech, 'most of you here have already heard this speech at least once. Therefore, there is barely any need for me to remind you what the Yule Ball is about. But for the fourth-years who have joined the Ball tonight, I'd like to state the meaning of this event in one word: _tolerance_. Tonight, you'll spend an evening with all the students of your _year_, not of your _House_. Tonight, you'll learn that the annoying Ravenclaw that always answers the questions in class is, in fact, very fun to be around. That the timid Hufflepuff in Herbology class is the one who will dance on the tables later tonight. That the brave Gryffindor Quidditch player can't hold his champagne. And that the cold Slytherin has, in fact, a beating heart like you and me. Tonight, you have only one assignment: look behind the appearances, and just be yourself. Let the Yule Ball begin!'

I have barely the time to process what McGonagall just said. It was something about me having a heart like any other person, and me being myself tonight – was this speech directly intented for me?

I open my mouth to share my thoughts about our headmistress's speech with Scorpius, when I feel the table move. Actually, all the tables were moving back to the walls, leaving a huge empty space in the middle of the Hall: the dancefloor.

Oh, dear Merlin. Don't tell me we're going to have to dance – it's too soon, I'm not prepared for this.

The first notes of something that reminds me of a waltz start playing. I only notice now that a group of musicians entered the Great Hall while McGonagall was speaking.

The dancefloor remains desperately empty for what feels like eternity. It seems that nobody wants to be the first to open the Ball. Neither do I, and I just stare at the dancefloor, transfixed.

Until I am vaguely aware of Scorpius sitting up and holding out his hand for me.

_Scorpius, I love you, but don't do this to me._

I look up at him and I throw him a pleading glare. He just shrugs my lack of dancing mood off and flashes me a mischievous grin. Numbed out by stage fright, my mind totally blank, I give him my hand and we walk forward on the dancefloor.

Scorpius turns to face me then. His hand slides from my shoulder to my waist, and he delicately takes my fingers in his. I look up at him, and he's towering over me, and it makes me feel tiny again. His hand nestles in the small of my back and he gently presses me against him.

It leaves me breathless.

I've been that close to him before. Many times, and especially one night when we danced like this, months ago.

The night I fell in love with him.

Only this time, I'm not drunk, I'm not desperately sad, I'm just staring at him, transfixed, trying to get my brain to work again, trying to find what my next move will be.

I can't hear a single note of music. I feel like all my senses are numb, the only thing remaining on earth is Scorpius – his smell, his touch, the sound of his light breathing.

We dance twice around the dancefloor before other couples join us. Just like when we entered the Great Hall earlier, I am vaguely aware that all the eyes are on Scorpius and me. In a wirl of music and silhouettes I catch Lana's eye and she winks at me. I also see Alejandro holding his date and dancing around us. I don't see Nilkovitch and that ought to disturb me a little.

But right now it doesn't matter that much. I am dancing in Scorpius's arms, and he holds me gently yet tighly enough so I won't collapse on the floor – something I've been threatening to do since we started dancing. I don't dare look at him, my expression would betray too much of my emotions. I just can't seem to relax, and I wonder if I'll ever find the courage to tell Scorpius that, in fact, I…

A short pause, and the musicians start playing another song.

A song that sounds very, very familiar.

At the sound of it, Scorpius slows our dance down and listens up, recognizing it.

_I've been really trying, baby  
Trying to hold back this feeling for so long_

I freeze in his arms as well.

_Fuck_.

Did they _really_ need to play a song that both reminds us of so many things?

But then Scorpius bends towards me gently, and he presses his cheek on mine, breathing in my hair. My rational self wonders what's going on, but my infatuated self lets the little hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My heart, already beating fast, threatens to break records. He is so close to me, the smell of his skin is so attractive, that I feel the need to come even closer to him and nest my face between his shoulder and his neck.

This is irrational, I know. But when the one you've been secretly in love with gently presses you against him, you let go of all your good reasons to stay collected and dive into the moment for as long as you can.

And that's why I tell him:

'I've been really trying, Scorpius.'

For a moment, he doesn't say a word, and I wonder if he's understood me – if he's heard what I said at all.

'I've been trying to hold it back, but now I know I can't do it anymore.'

He keeps dancing, his cheek against mine, still not responding, and I begin to tremble in his arms.

But then he says:

'Go on.'

I take it as a good sign that he should ask me to keep talking, so I do.

'I… I wish it hadn't had happened, you know? But, Scorpius, you're my favourite person in the world, and I've always loved you more than anyone else, and… for a few months now… I've loved you more than even _I_ used to.'

And he still doesn't react. Although I feel his body tense slightly at my last words.

Then he gently lets go of my hand and puts both his hands on my shoulders, takes a step back and looks at me.

I've never seen his face look like this before.

He looks… stunned.

And then I realise, all this time, I was hoping that my declaration wouldn't come as a _complete_ surprise for him. But apparently, it does.

'I… I'd like a glass of champagne,' is all I can say, looking away from him, my eyes cast downwards, hoping this will erase the words I said before.

He lets go of my shoulders, but he puts his fingers under my chin, gently raising my face until I'm forced to look at him. I don't know what expression my face has taken, but at its sight, he looks distressed and hurt. Funny, because that's exactly how I feel.

'Rose, I…' he just whispers.

But it doesn't change anything. I just _can't_ look at him right now.

He looks away, and then walks to the tables to get me a glass of champagne.

How ridiculous. Champagne isn't what I need to drink right now. _Poison_ would be a better idea. I stay in the middle of the dancefloor, oblivious of the couples swirling around me. I have a vague idea of how pathetic I must look, but I really couldn't care less.

But Scorpius isn't back with the glass I asked him to get for me, and I start looking around for him. The only thing worse than having to confront him is having him run away when I have my back turned.

But he hasn't run away. He's still near the table, a glass of champagne in his hand, talking to _Katrina Nilkovitch_.

I'm not thinking about anything. Instinctively, I walk up to them, and I hear Lana's voice calling me from behind.

'Rose!'

'NO!' I yell back at her in an attempt to stop her. But she still follows me until I stop in front of Scorpius and Katrina.

The look I throw Katrina is so full of hatred I wonder how it doesn't kill her. She recoils slightly under my glare though, just like a slutty little snake would do.

The look I throw Scorpius… I don't know what it feels like, but Scorpius tries to say something to defend himself, and I don't want to hear him explain or lie. I just smack the glass of champagne off his hand, and the crystal crashes on the floor, exploding in thousands of sparkling bits, shiny as teardrops.

The last person I look at is Lana, and she nods at once.

'Got it,' she says.

She knows her duty is to hex Nilkovitch and she'll do it, as I run away from the scene, consumed by jealousy, shame and despair.

I hear Scorpius call after me, but I keep running, until the Great Hall is far away behind me, until the music stops, until the shining candles and warm light of the Hall are only a vague memory.

* * *

'Rose?'

I don't know how long I've been sitting on the couch of the Common Room, wrapped in my tartan rug, my beautiful cocktail dress crumpled, looking at the fire through a blur of tears. My mind has gone completely blank and only the pain remains.

Scorpius's voice echoes in my ears like an old memory of happier times. I shake my head, trying to make the voice go away. There's no point in remembering it now.

'Rose!'

I let out a cry of surprise. Someone is sitting next to me on the formerly empty couch, and I didn't hear him enter the Common Room or sit there.

Through my tears I see Scorpius's upset face. Scorpius never looks upset, or distressed, or devastated. The times when he looked half as bad as he does now are very few, and I've always been the only witness of them: when his father once told him he didn't make him proud, when my father told me he would never, ever accept Scorpius no matter how important he was for me. And these were good reasons for teenagers to be upset. But now? What's the matter? Why is he even here, instead of dancing with Nilkovitch upstairs? Maybe Lana hexed her so bad she sprouted chicken wings where her arms were supposed to be?

So I ask him, trying to make my voice sound cold when actually it only comes out trembling and frail:

'Why are you here?'

My question seems to upset him even more. He rubs his face with his hands and shakes his head.

'Rose… Why did you leave?'

I feel my jaw drop several inches.

'You don't know? You… you were talking to _her_, and you left me in the middle of the dancefloor… and… and…'

I'm so upset my words get stuck in my throat and the tears spill from my eyes again. Scorpius makes a move to come closer to me but I stop him. I'm getting irrational again. As soon as my throat opens I yell at him:

'… and you didn't say _anything_ when I told you I was in love with you!'

Instead of recoiling on the couch as I expect him to do, he sits up, his beautiful face contorted with pain and anger, and he yells back:

'Nilkovitch cornered me, OK? She's been trying to '_talk'_ to me since that night at the Astronomy Tower, and I've always rejected her, but tonight I just didn't want to make a scene in front of the entire school on the Yule Ball! And I was telling her to leave me alone because I wanted to be with _you_, Rose!'

He grabs my shoulders and dives his dark, dangerous grey eyes into mine. I feel a chill that only has very little to do with fear run down my spine as he goes on: 'I have _nothing_ to do with her, do you _understand_ that, for Merlin's sake? Fuck, Rose, will you stop being jealous and moody and crazy and finally understand that_ I love you_?'

We both stop breathing at the sound of his last words, as if we were both surprised by their meaning.

We stare at each other for a second in stunned silence, mouths gaping slightly. And then I say under my breath:

'You _love_ me?'

'I love you, Rose,' he admits, saying the words carefully in the same hushed tone I said mine. 'I'm in love with you, and how could I not be? Why would the last few months have been so devastating otherwise? I can't live without you, I've never learnt how to do it and I don't want to. You're my favourite person in the whole world, you crazy, hysterical, sarcastic, passionate, beautiful Rose. And lately, well… maybe it's called growing up, or maybe it's called growing nuts, but I can't picture being friends with you anymore… I want to be more to you than your best friend.'

I stare at him and for once my face doesn't betray the din of my heart.

'Is that why you've kept pushing me away?'

'_I_ have kept pushing you away? _You_ have!'

'I was scared, Scorpius!' my voice regains strength in the argument, 'we were always rule breakers, we already were before we met each other, and the only rule I never, _ever_ wanted to break was the rule of our friendship! And I thought that's what you wanted, too! I couldn't imagine not having you in my life anymore, that's why I acted like this.'

'I was scared too, Rose,' he says, calmer than I am. 'I'm still scared. But it's not like we have a choice, do we? We are so made for each other.'

He shrugs and finally, a tiny, mischievous sparkle glints in his eyes. And then I know everything is forgiven, everything that needed to be said has been said, and there's only one thing left to do.

I throw myself in his arms and I kiss him. He laughs against my lips, a laugh of spotless, complete happiness, and then he kisses me back.

And I know now all the pain was worth it. Two people like us can't just get together in an easy way. The love stories they write about in the books we've always read are not about regular people. They're about love that never comes easily, but when it finally comes, it's simpler, hotter, better than in any of our fantasies.

* * *

Somehow it doesn't surprise me that I've kissed Scorpius Malfoy. I even wonder how I have been so blind as to not know from the start I'd never want my first kiss from anyone else but him. Maybe my mum knew it, but she never told me, and she was probably right not to.

So I guess we really _are_ rule breakers to our core. We had only one rule left unbroken, the tacit rule of friendship, and we broke it as soon as we could. But can you blame us? As Scorpius said, we are _so_ made for each other.

* * *

_ THE END._


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